When I was 10, my mother took me out to the shed behind our house to ask me if she should divorce my father.
"I'm thinking of leaving him," she said. "But you need to know what that would mean."
She explained that she would have to go back to work for the first time since my brother and I were born, irregular hours and nightshifts, that we'd have to leave the house, definitely our school, probably our friends. She spoke of my father as a dream killer, a Grimm's fairytale devil who revealed his black heart only after they'd married. She said much about him - speaking more to herself than to me - while I grabbed tufts of a discarded shag carpet and held fast.
"You have to decide," she said, gagging on tears. "Are you willing to make those sacrifices?"
Read the rest on AOL's Parentdish.
By the way, Gina Misiroglu of Red Room put me in touch with the AOL people, which is one of the great ways she's bringing traffic to Red Room and getting attention for Red Room's authors.
Causes Elizabeth Eslami Supports
Willamette Writers, The Association of Writers and Poets, The Association of Iranian American Writers