The first year after my parents separated and we’d moved from California to Wisconsin was, relatively, uneventful. My mother told me that, at the time, she took us all to see a counselor to help us deal with the feelings brought on by the separation and divorce, but I don’t remember that; my memories from this young age are fleeting. I was in preschool that year, and one of the few clear memories I still have of that time was my first, colossal mistake.
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