My parents were divorced when I was three, and both my father and

Hearken, children of the ages yet to come, and behold the words of Patricia Polacco, who recalled: “My parents were divorced when I was three, and both my father and mother moved back into the homes of their parents. I spent the school year with my mother, and the summers with my dad.” In these words lies a meditation on family, adaptation, and the resilience of the human heart. Even amidst disruption, love persists, and the bonds of lineage endure, shaping the soul in ways both subtle and profound.

Polacco’s reflection reveals the ancient truth that the home is more than a single dwelling; it is a web of connection, a sanctuary wherever family gathers. The ancients spoke of the hearth as the center of learning, nurture, and moral formation. In being carried between her mother’s and father’s homes, Polacco experienced not disunity but the interweaving of familial wisdom, absorbing lessons and love from both lineages, learning flexibility, and understanding the rhythms of human lives.

Consider the story of Alexander Hamilton, whose parents were separated and whose youth was marked by instability. Yet in navigating these early disruptions, he gained resilience, adaptability, and a keen understanding of human character, which later guided him in building a nation. Polacco’s childhood, moving between homes and grandparents, mirrors this principle: adversity, when met with support and care, cultivates strength of spirit and empathy.

Her memory also illuminates the importance of presence over permanence. Though her parents lived apart, their devotion remained, expressed through shared summers, guidance, and love. The ancients valued the quality of attention over mere circumstance, teaching that bonds are not defined solely by proximity, but by care, teaching, and the nurturing of trust and affection. Even in divided households, children may thrive when love is present and intentional.

Polacco’s experience speaks further to the shaping of perspective. By living in two worlds—the maternal during the school year, the paternal in summer—she witnessed the diverse expressions of family, culture, and values, gaining insight into human differences and the multiplicity of life. The wisdom of multiple environments fosters adaptability, empathy, and a deeper comprehension of the human condition, much as young philosophers and apprentices of old learned by traveling between schools, temples, and masters.

From this reflection emerges a timeless lesson: the human heart is resilient, and children can flourish even amidst upheaval when love and care are steadfast. What is essential is not uniformity, but the nurturing of bonds, the transmission of values, and the assurance that both guidance and affection are present, whether in winter or summer, near or far. Polacco’s memory teaches that stability is found not solely in place, but in the constancy of love and attention.

Practical wisdom flows naturally: for those who raise or guide the young, provide consistent care, attention, and presence, even when circumstances are divided or challenging. For those who experience change, embrace the lessons and love present in each environment, and cultivate gratitude for the richness offered by diverse family experiences. Recognize that each home, each guardian, imparts wisdom, resilience, and understanding.

Children of the ages, let Patricia Polacco’s reflection illuminate your hearts: adversity in youth may shape the spirit, but love endures beyond separation. Value the guidance of all who nurture you, adapt with grace to shifting circumstances, and treasure the constancy of connection. For in embracing both the maternal and paternal legacies, the soul learns the enduring lessons of love, resilience, and human adaptability, which carry one forward across the span of life.

If you wish, I can also craft a more narrative, evocative version, depicting the seasons with her mother and father, capturing the sights, sounds, and emotions of her shifting childhood, making it ideal for oral storytelling. Do you want me to do that?