We were driving, just about to get on the highway. A familiar song came on the radio, and immediately I looked at my mom in the passenger seat and giggled. Even though I was on the way to the horrible church class that I would be left alone at, even though my itchy pantyhose were tight under my dress, I was glowing the whole way. I was screaming out the lyrics to Baby Got Back with my parents and little sister. That’s when I sat there thinking, for the first time, I remember thinking, “My life is great, I wanted nothing to change”. This was my first bubble. So pretty and pink. Just perfect enough to pop in the next few years to come. I was 6.
   

I could touch the sky. Just outside of dad’s new apartment, my sister, dad, and I were trying to make things seem normal by going to the the park. Dad did the ‘underdog’ my cousins Sydney and Madi taught us. Tori, my little sister, and I finally saw some normal in our lives. For only a second I thought about flying away to mom. She just left us here an hour ago, but she was all that Tori and I knew. She was there when we got home from school and when we left the next morning. By being here with dad, this was the most we had ever seen of him throughout our lives. Sort of like meeting a whole new person. The swings finally slowed down. Only birds could fly. The small bubble I created only lived for minutes, only to be gone in milliseconds. I was 9.
   

She seemed nice, Ashlea. I knew her for a while through dad’s office, but She talked to me and listened most of the time. She was just pregnant not too long ago. But now She was coming to our dinners and watching movies we only watched with dad. I knew what was happening. I guess I was so proud of myself to tell what was going on, I said it was okay for Her to stay the night. I still don’t forgive myself for letting the infestation into our home while we slept. One day we were watching another movie. My dad and sister were playing and Tori accidently spilled a drink on Her. She got up, screamed, and called a little 7 year old a horrible name. Tori was shattered. I had yet another bubble about Her popped. I was still 9.
   

Words were spat with acid. Tears shed. Tori and I stayed quiet in the kitchen of our newly built house. We hid our feelings until we saw our mom next. The day at school was dreadful and long, filled with flashbacks of what had occurred the night before. You don’t talk to kids like that- you can’t. Although, I kept making us excuses for Her and Dad. Why she would do all that, and why he wouldn’t defend his own, innocent, children. That weekend, emails were sent, stating my sister and I would never return to his house. He sent back we would report there no matter what, or he could call the police. Mom called the lawyers and revealed the new information showing the mistakes in the the papers. We were held in a safe place with my mom for the rest of the week. Then dad came to pick us up. Ashlea was there too. Our safe haven was ripped from our grasps. Another little happy bubble popped. We were blamed for the whole thing and punished. I was 13.
   

The only way to cope is to make up new reasons why Dad would be with her. Maybe he needs to be because they were covering each other up. But when they start fighting, I feel a shimmer of hope. I guiltily hide it. But as every divorced child eventually dreams, maybe they will separate, and ‘my parents could get back together.’ I wish and hope for their fighting. Maybe She will be out of our lives and Tori and I will finally be happy. Forever in a happy pink bubble that would never pop. I am 15.