Until the second quarter of my third grade year, I was just a normal, blonde-haired, brown-eyed, middle-class kid; then, my parents got divorced. The funny thing was: my parents never fought. Besides the one time that Mom and Dad argued over what kind of cream cheese to buy from Wal-Mart, I had never witnessed them quarrel. The counselor always taught students how to deal with divorce when parents fought, but I had no idea what to do because my parents didn’t. It didn’t make sense. Why would my parents get divorced if they never fought? “We just fell out of love.” A few weeks after Mom moved out, she took her eight-year-old, blonde-haired daughter into the living room and made her different. My mom sat down on the floor with me, in front of the Christmas tree, and taught me what “gay” meant. My mom was gay. "