Writing 101- Happy (Insert Special Occasion Here!)
After a week of exhausting second grade mathematics, extremely long hours of playing with friends, and trying hard to surmount the herculean task of remembering that friends is spelled with an ie and not an ei, a reward smoothened out all the wrinkles of hardships in my life. With my look messed up as if I’d just come back from war, but it actually just being a winning game of dodgeball at school, it was almost as if a dinner treat was equivalent to conquering an additional nation well after winning the war. It became a tradition, if not a routine, to drive to the nearest mall to go have some McDonald’s after such happenings.
You might think it to be clichéd for a kid to like anything that comes out of a McDonald’s, but my story holds a place very near my heart, that it being a cliché doesn’t really matter.
Every evening waiting in our home on the fifth floor was a rather eager little girl, waiting to hear the sound of a car horn. The moment she heard it, she’d rush to the door to wait for the man who drove that car to arrive home. In a whoosh, with the speed and precision of that when my hand moves to press snooze as the alarm goes off, she’d go step outside and would squeal gleefully just as the lift arrived, “Daddy!”. He would reciprocate with a huge grin and would ask how his precious daughter’s day was. That would be followed with some good news from work, a hilarious incident that happened on the drive home, or a box of black forest cake from our favourite bakery. Sometimes, to treat his apparently exhausted little daughter and more importantly his loving family, he would do just that and meanwhile would also take us out on an enjoyable trip. As much as enjoyment the night would be filled with, a Happy Meal for dinner would always be the icing on the cake. Choosing which action figure or toy she’d want along with the meal, from the available characters from the then-famous movies posed as the biggest dilemma. Tinkerbell? Peter Pan? The Lost Boys? They would all be equally appealing and she’d put her hand on her heart and finally give in to pick one. Later at home, she’d somehow be grateful that she picked Tinkerbell with her glow-in-the-dark wings and pleasant smile, and that all that melodrama was worth it. As for the meal itself, the french fries prepared oh so hastily with the customers rushing in and the perfect dash of salt would taste just right. The burger being the main course to her little line-up of a 3 course meal for the night would disappear within minutes of her picking it up. The Coca-Cola never seemed to get over even after the innumerable sips and that came to become a part of its charm. She’d sit back in the car, a little jumpy, with the real exhaustion of a grown up after all the intense eating and running around she’d done.
I love the fact that I am that little girl who grew up to realise that she was an immeasurably happy kid who would become happier past the limit when occasionally handed a red box with a huge yellow smile printed on the face of it.
At present I have indeed come to realise that how much ever McDonald’s is near my heart, it really isn’t going to do great things for it. But in all good causes, an occasional visit isn’t that detrimental, is it? You might want to think about the taste and touch of memories twice or a couple of more times if you think it is.
Writing 101, Day 10
Picture Credits: www.mcdonaldsmenu.mobi