Page 4 - SpringBoard_Writing_Workshop_Grade7_Flipbook

Sample Text
My Long
Distance Life
by Nick Sheff
I was born in Berkeley, where I lived in a small house in the hills surrounded by firs and redwoods. My mom, my dad and me. As early as I can remember, there was arguing. When I was 4, my parents decided that they could no longer live together.
That same year, my mom moved to Los Angeles, and a therapist was hired
to decide where I would live. My dad called her my worry doctor. Playing with a dollhouse in her office, I showed her the mother’s room on one side and the father’s room on the other. When she asked me about the little boy’s room, I told her he didn’t know where he would sleep.
Though I was very young, I accepted my parents’ separation and divorce and somehow knew it wasn’t my fault. Yet I was intensely afraid. Not only was my mom more than 500 miles away, but she had a new husband. My dad had a new girlfriend, and my custody was unresolved. Everyone said I’d spend time with both parents, but I wanted to know where I would live.
The therapist finally decided I’d stay with my dad during the school year and visit my mom on long holidays and for the summers. I began flying between two cities and two different lives. I’ve probably earned enough miles for a round-trip ticket to Mars. Some people love to fly, but I dreaded the trips.
For the first year, one of my parents would accompany me on the flights. At 6,
I started traveling on my own. I would pack my toys and clothes in a Hello Kitty backpack and say goodbye to my parent at the gate. The flight attendant would lead me onto the plane.
When I was 7, the woman sitting next to me on the plane tried to convert me
to Christianity. A few years later I was on a flight with such bad turbulence that the luggage compartments opened and the man behind me threw up. When I was 12 and on my way to L.A. for Christmas, a lady refused to check her bag and shoved a flight attendant. We couldn’t take off for two hours; the police came and dragged her off, to the cheering of other passengers. But flying was just part of what made long-distance joint custody so difficult.
I remember the last day of school in sixth grade. All my friends made plans to
go to the beach together—all my friends, but not me. I couldn’t join them because I had to fly to L.A. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see my mom and stepdad. I just didn’t want to leave my friends. As the school year came to a close, I began to shut down. I hated saying goodbye for the summer. It was easier to put up a wall, to pretend I didn’t care. My dad drove to school with my packed bags. My friends went off together and I headed to the airport.
Arriving in L.A., I was excited to see my mom and stepdad. It had been almost three months since my last visit. But it took a while to adjust. Each set of parents had different rules, values and concerns.
My Notes
Writing Workshop 1 • Writing Process 3
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