Happy Meals

Lately I have been thinking about how things used to be. When I was about 8 or 9 sitting in the back of my father's truck eating happy meals and I was just fine not a care in the world. I just couldn't wait to taste those fries or chew my nuggets and dip it into sauce. I used to go crazy for thoses kids toys in the plastic rappings. Barbie dolls. Little cars, robots that you could rearrange and rebuilt I was facinated by it all. At that time I wasn't tainted at all. My parents they seemed truly in love. I wish I could go back to that time. Before the arguments started. Before the accusations began. Before my father started to get sick. Before the best thing I've ever known started to disappear. Back to that age where innocence was plentiful and Illusions masked my gentle heart. Because at that time we were picture perfect. I had a dad who loved me and a mom who would do anything to make me happy. That's all I needed. I don't know when it changed. Maybe sometime between 11 or 12 or when my happy meal got an upgrade. I was growing up and so little kids meals wouldn't full me anymore. Neither would little kids fairytales. So along with my big mac I started to get big people's problems. I started to recognize the picture for what it really was. My perfect family was cracking up and blowing in the dust. Every friday I used to get mcdonalls. Every friday since I was 5. I still practice that tradition. But some things are missing. Like my father's car. I can no longer fall alseep in the back seat and pretend I don't hear the arguing cause he's gone. So much for my happy meals. How that's for growing up?