The Hope of a Happy Family
This I believe: My parents’ divorce had nothing to do with me. This I believe: I will have a successful marriage, despite what statistics against children with divorced parents say. This I believe: I am very lucky to have parents who give me the hope of happiness and love.
I haven’t always felt this way about love and life, but I have learned to count my blessings, and I will never let go of my most wonderful blessing: my memory. The one memory that I cherish more than any other would be ordinary to anyone else. To me, it is the only memory that makes me still believe in true love. The strange thing is, it is a memory of my parents, and they have been divorced since I was five.
My father is a police officer, and he used to work the second shift. One night, my mom let my brother and me stay up late to see him come home. Once I heard my dad come through the door, I ran into the bathroom and hid in a cupboard. I can remember laughing so loud, there was no way my dad couldn’t hear me. As I sat giggling in the cupboard, I could hear my dad saying, “Oh, no! I can’t find Megan anywhere!” He began to search for me, and in my three-year-old mind, I thought I had found the best hiding place in the world. Suddenly, he pulled open the door to the cupboard, and I screeched and giggled as my father pulled me out of the cupboard and spun me around over his head. He put me down, and stood up and kissed my mom. Then he scooped me and my brother into his arms and we laughed together as a family. In my memory now, I think we looked like a couple in a fifties television show, like Leave it to Beaver, or I Love Lucy. We were the perfect family. After that, things got harder, and our one happy family turned into two less happy families.
Every night I prayed that my mom and dad would get back together and we could all be happy again. When I got older, I realized my family would never be together the way we used to be. With that realization did not come sadness, but relief. I realized my parents still loved me, and they still cared about each other, but just not in the same way. My parents give me hope that, although things that happen may not be ideal, they can still be good. My parents still love me, and I still have my memory of that one special moment when life was perfect. That memory gives me more hope that anything else.
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