toothpaste messages

I believe in the power of a toothpaste written message. You know, the one written spontaneously on a mirror. I believe in that.

My senior year of high school my dad came to me and said, “Megan. I don’t think things with your Mom and me are going to work out.”

I was always aware of my parent’s differences. They weren’t the most romantic couple, and didn’t express their love very often. Well, mostly my dad didn’t, but we won’t get into the petty details.

My mom is my best friend, and we tell each other everything. We love to talk. Back then, as I was the oldest at home and my Dad wasn’t there for her, I was who she came to. She would come to me and extravagate on my dad’s faults, and, eventually, cry to me. It wasn’t till my dad addressed these words to me that I realized it all wasn’t simply a best friend’s exaggerated gossip. It wasn’t till then that I was aware of divorce. Well, divorce and me.

He heaved the words out and kept chopping the carrots. I asked what he meant, and stayed calm. Right then, however, my three little brothers came laughing into the kitchen, wanting food, and the subject was taboo. I got up and left.

I went into the living room, sprawled on the couch, and cried. I stopped after probably sixty seconds, though—I felt dramatic. I had friends who had dealt with divorce, relatives who’d dealt with that word. It happens…But wasn’t this was me? This was my family. We were typical. But woah, I am me and I am a part of this world. And this was happening. I breathed in and out and after a while, accepted it. I thought about what would happen, and knew it would be okay. If my parents would be happier, I wanted that. I would survive. Thousands of kids have done so. And I’d help my siblings do the same.

So the issue was out. I discussed divorce with my dad over lunch several times, and began to understand him. I discussed it with my mom as well. They were both very sad. It got to the point where I honestly didn’t care what happened. I just wanted them to be happy.

My dad left us for awhile—and things were okay. Our family got along, and my siblings didn’t think much of it. When he came back, he was ready to try counseling. This was a big deal for him. Around this time my parents distanced themselves from me. They stopped giving me the everyday updates. I didn’t really know what was going on, but I realized it could mean their separation was mending. When I asked, I’d get the same vague answer from both of them. At least they were on the same page.

A few months and several counseling sessions later I was rushing to get to school and went to grab something I randomly needed out of my parents’ bathroom. In my rush I almost missed it, but its reflection in the opposite mirror caught my eye. I smiled as I read the toothpaste message above my mom’s sink. It was my dad’s handwriting, with hearts surrounding: “I love you”.

I believe in happiness, the kind my parents radiate now. I know that every situation is different, and that sometimes happiness is impossible to maintain. But i think this is rare.

I believe in toothpaste messages.