I'm going to tell you a story. It's kind of long so feel free to just stop reading if you want, I won't blame you.

Back before I was a teenager, we lived in a city about fifteen miles south of where we live now. The city could pretty much fit in the lake that's in the middle of the city we live in now, and the lake's not that big... Driving from one end to the other of this city, Lake Placid, literally takes five minutes if you don't hit any stop signs, and the speed limit's 50. Anyways, this story isn't about the city, no, it's about our family and the way it was back then. My dad worked at the church we go to, as the chief administrator on staff. He basically did everything that needed to be done: He printed the weekly bulletin, ran the website, took calls, kept the equipment maintained, printed labels for the recording tapes, tidied up the chairs, dealt with the bills, etc. Now, seeing as this was the church, he literally spent 180% of his effort on his job, making every single thing he did perfect. Not so perfect for us. My older brother and I, it was just the two of us then, heard many fights at night, when my dad was tired from a long day's work, complaining to my mom about something or other. My mom had every right to say she'd had a hard day's work raising us, since we were home schooled. My mom put even more hours into raising us than my dad did at work. So late at night, as a six year old, I'd lay in the bottom bunk of the bed my brother and I shared, listening to my parents fight. Sure enough, after about an hour of fighting, we'd hear the door slam and the squealing of tires as my dad took off.

I'm not sure where he went when he took off like that (We called it "taking off in his rocket ship" because of the vehement manner in which he would storm out). I know he didn't go to a bar to drink his troubles away. I've never seen my dad drunk. Sure, he'd have a beer or two on occasion, but no more than that. He probably just went back to the church to do more paperwork or something. When he was home, he was always very volatile. If we did anything the slightest bit wrong in his eyes, he was likely to go off on us, either yelling at us, hitting/spanking us, smacking us on the back of the head (Like Gibbs does to Tony on NCIS, but harder), or all-of-the-above. Oh yeah, and we had custom made wooden paddles... EVERYTHING made him mad. One time, he was installing a garbage disposal in our sink, and he got frustrated with it and threw the wrench over his shoulder without even looking. It whizzed right past my right ear. I could feel the wind from it as it passed. To this day, my dad denies the incident, saying it was my imaginative mind at work. I may have only been eight years old, but I remember it as if it had just happened two seconds ago. That's not something I'd just make up.

Over the years, my dad's outlook on life in general seemed to improve. He didn't get ticked off as much, he stopped "taking off in his rocket ship," he still yelled at us, but mainly only when we deserved it. Life seemed good. Then, he got laid off of his job at the church, because they could no longer afford to pay him. He got a new job as a plant operator at a school, where he works twice as hard for half as much pay. Surprisingly enough, he seemed to get even better than he was before, approving of the good things we did--something he'd very rarely done in the past--and being less harsh on our failures. We started to be come a family instead of a group of people who hate each other stuck o an island.

Then, my dad broke his kneecap in an accident at work. He got workman's comp, had surgery, and has been in a full-leg cast since early July. Less than a week after surgery, he was back at work, putting in a half day every day. I don't understand why, because he was in absolutely NO condition to do his job, but still forced himself to go... This is where I began to see the old dad returning...

Anyways, tonight, he's really pissed off over something at work. I don't know what, and I don't dare inquire. He and my mom had an argument, a loud one, which they haven't had in a while. They've had heated discussions, but no arguments if you catch my meaning. At one point he stormed back into his room, probably to get on his computer for some reason. That's when I said "Dad's back." The whole thing ended up with my dad rushing around looking for his wallet. He's not allowed to drive with his cast on, as he'd be a danger on the roads, but he didn't care. My mom told him he shouldn't drive, but he ignored her. He went back to their room to find his wallet and in the meantime, my mom took the keys and left, but not in the car. I have no clue where she went, and my dad hasn't come out of his room since... All I do know is that I'm scared as heck, because I heard "maybe we should separate for a while" during the argument. Personally, I wouldn't give a flying **** if my dad left, except for the fact that he's the one with the highest paying job, and my mom couldn't possibly support the family on her own.