I sat in my room on top of my bed reading a book with my balcony doors open. All I could hear was the waterfall coming from the backyard pool, when all of a sudden that pristine setting was ruined by an uproar of yelling from downstairs. It was my parents and it was the third time today that they were fighting. I though to myself, "What is it this time? What else could they possibly find to argue about this time?" I opened my door and began to head for the stairs when all of a sudden I saw them coming up the stairs, still yelling, my mother in front and my father following. I heard the doors to their bedroom slam shut, one right after the other. I walked out of my room and all the way down the hallway. I put my ear up against one of their doors. They were still arguing and from the sounds of it my mother was pulling her clothing out of closets. I heard the zippers of the suitcase shut and my mother trying to carry them to the door.
             I ran to my room. I heard the suitcases being dragged behind my mother down the stairs. When they reached the downstairs they were fighting louder and more profane than ever before, and that's when my mother took the vase, filled with flowers, off the entry table and threw it my father. I heard the glass shatter as my mom had missed him and hit the wall. She took her suitcases outside, placed them in her car and I heard the peeling of the tires as she drove away.
             Now what could have caused all of this? Well, it was the fact that my father was rarely ever home because he was running a business. Now you have to ask yourself, is that something that someone should become upset at another person for? Trying to provide for our family? I asked myself, "Do I live in a 'broken home'?"
             In the essay, "Stone Soup," by Barbara Kingsolver, she argues that a divorce is not as atrocious society makes it out to be. In fact there are a number of benefits, she argues, that are...