CMT Blog: divorce

Thirty years later, Gatorade tastes like divorce to me.

After my parents had their marriage annulled, the time I spent at my dad’s new condo was always fueled with Gatorade — an indulgence my mom would never allow into our house. He stocked his fridge with it to make us like his place better. So now when I take even one sip, it triggers all my memories of that horrible time in my childhood.

And when I hear “Every Other Weekend,” the new Reba McEntire/Kenny Chesney duet about a divorcing couple, it triggers those very same long-dormant emotions.

“It’s movies on the sofa/Grilled cheese and cut the crust off/‘But that’s not the way mom makes it, daddy’/ Breaks my heart.” Lyrics have never cut to the heart of a custody arrangement like that. It may sound like it’s about a sandwich, but it’s not. It’s about how fathers can quickly become strangers to their own kids in a divorce. Everything my dad did was so un-mom-like. Therefore, I hated every minute.

“Every other Friday/It’s toys and clothes and backpacks/Is everybody in?/OK, let’s go see Dad.” My mom always had the same superficial lilt in her voice when she’d take us to my dad’s. She didn’t want to bring us, we didn’t want to go, but for the sake of the settlement she had to fake it. Ironic, isn’t it, that even after a divorce so many women still have to play the part of the loving wife.

“Every other Sunday/I empty out my backseat/While my children hug their mother in the parking lot.” Yes. Yes. Yes. This is exactly how I remember it. My dad would barely stop the car and I’d escape into my mom’s familiar arms. That was where I knew I belonged.

In the Reba-Kenny version, they’re both pining for the love they once had. But real life isn’t like a country song. Divorce happens. A lot. So even though it’s hard to listen to a song about the struggles of joint custody, it’s real. And it’s a bittersweet reminder that in every broken home, there are always a few broken hearts.