Get Over it Already.

This phrase echoed through my childhood. Anytime I was sad, disrespected, or grieving I was reminded to leave it behind. Get over it. No use crying over spilled milk. The glass is now empty. But I was nine, and life had just started. This moment could have been different. I stopped sniffling as footsteps creaked on the wooden stairs. I knew who it was. There was only one set now. My mom sat on my bed, her silhouette purple and sharp framed against the soft yellow light pouring through the open doorway. She placed her hand on my leg. “Honey, it’s been a month [since your dad and I got divorced]. It’s time to stop crying. Get over it already.” I blinked in disbelief. This was the momen...View all