I sit impatiently on the sidewalk outside the courthouse, waiting for my separated family to emerge from the big double doors. I tap my black hightop Converse against the concrete as my thoughts go crazy, bouncing off the walls of my brain. This isn’t anything new to me. I’ve been here before for the exact same reason. My parent’s divorce.

When I was 6-years-old, I woke up to find my dad’s stuff packed into boxes. My mom was clearly angry. Her face filled with tears as she took more of my dad’s shirts from their huge walk in closet. I looked all over the house, but he was nowhere. I didn’t quite understand, all I knew for sure was that my daddy was gone. And he was not coming back.

After four years, the divorce became final and both my parents moved on. Now the only reason they still fight is for my little brother and me. It’s still difficult to understand completely. There are things I still don’t know. But for now I live with my aunt. She was kind enough to take me in temporarily until the custody battle was over. I had to move to a new school, a new house and become part of a fairly new family. I’m very thankful for her and everything she does for me. But that doesn’t take away any of my hope to someday live with one of my actual parents.

I go back and forth, from house to house. My aunt’s during the week and a different parent each weekend. I miss my massive family being all joined together for Christmas and Thanksgiving. I miss having huge birthday parties. I miss all the family members I’m too busy to see. I guess I’m supposed to be used to it after eight years, but sometimes I still imagine things how they used to be. I don’t blame anyone for what happened. I just wish this in-between stage would end.

I know there are some perks. I get three birthday parties, extra presents and three houses. Most kids would think that’s awesome. But I would trade all those parties and presents for some quality time with my dad or to get to see my brothers and sisters more often. Or one single house to call my home.

Or most of all, for an end to the feud.

I hate sitting in this parking lot. I hate waiting and not knowing what’s happening inside that big, brown building. I don’t know who is winning the argumentative discussions or if I’ll like the outcome. All I can do is sit here and feel useless, unsure of my future.

The digital clock on my phone hits 1 o’clock. I look up at the double doors and see my family splitting. It was as if an imaginary wall grew in between them. My aunt walked toward me shaking her head.

“Postponed to a later date.” She said mocking the deep tones of the ominous judge.

So the fight continues. Mom’s side against my dad’s, while I’m stuck in the middle.