You know you live in a small town when you see a flashing sign says, “BRIDGE CLOSED, USE ALTERNATE ROUTES,” and it prompts you to yell inside your moving vehicle, “WHAT alternate routes?”
This is divorce, you think.
When you get to the “Parents in Transition” seminar that your state says you must attend, for the sake of your children, whom you have already ruined by divorcing, you are shocked to find the room filling up quickly. How can there be this many people divorcing in your county? Where are they, and why do you know none of them?
The room is packed. For every soul here, you think, there is at least one child affected, at least two extended families who had the news broken to them, at least…what? What else? How many numbers can there be, in a divorce? Infinite, it seems.
The co-leaders—social workers—who run this seminar are like an old married couple themselves. They cluck and joke as they fuss with the overhead projector and the ancient VCR and the extension cords. They have been running this seminar for more than 35 years, and perhaps it has made them immune to the stink of the walking wounded who shuffle into the room. Perhaps it does not, and they simply know by now to keep a professional demeanor when addressing the soon-to-be divorced, lest the soon-to-be-divorced spill their ugly, sad stories and turn the room into chaos.
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