Ryan Thomson

I was standing at the kitchen sink this morning, staring out at the grey sky while the kettle boiled. It had been one of those nights, the kind where you wake up at 2 a.m., and your mind just won’t shut off. By the time the first light hit the hills, I’d already given up on the idea of sleep and was instead busying myself with dishes from the night before.

It was a quiet morning, at least in the house. The boys were still at their mother’s place, and I wouldn’t be seeing them until later this evening. To be honest, the silence wasn’t much of a relief. I used to crave it when the kids were small, but now it’s like an unwelcome guest.

I’m 52, and there’s no way I ever thought I’d be here, figuring out what it means to have ‘custody’ of my own kids. Christchurch, New Zeeland, used to feel like a place where everything had its order, you know? Your family, your work, your weekends. But now, nothing seems to sit right. The boys bounce between two houses like they’re on some kind of pendulum, trying to make sense of which home is home, and it guts me to watch them navigate it.

Especially the younger two. They’re not handling it well, and I can’t say I blame them. At least my oldest is getting through, though he's quieter than he used to be. We’ve talked about it, the whole messy situation—how everything’s changed. But what can you really say to make sense of a new bloke in their mother’s life and six kids all mashed together under one roof? I don’t like him, not one bit. And yeah, I’ve wondered if there was more going on before we split, but that’s not a path I need to go down. It won’t help anyone.

I can’t say my parents would approve of any of this, either. They were strict, religious—didn’t believe in divorce. But they’re gone now, and their rules don’t exactly work in this world anyway.

The kettle clicked off, and I made my cup of tea, thinking about picking up the boys later. I’m trying to keep things steady for them, even though everything feels like it’s teetering. But I know, deep down, that the life we had isn’t coming back, no matter how much any of us want it.