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When I was younger, my grand-mom would watch me and my brother after school. Sometimes she would drive us a town away to the McDonalds with a playground. Every McDonald’s looked the same, a white building with a red roof, can’t forget about the big M sign that looked like two French fries put together. It was almost a routine for us. We would stand in line and wait to order. When we got to the counter, it was always the same thing, “Can we get two happy meals with chicken nuggets with Hi-Cs and a filet of fish with a small coffee”. After getting our food, we found a nice shaded table outside to eat our food. It was so nice that day, and there was a cool summer breeze. I loved the scent of the warm chicken nuggets and the crunchy fries I was going to eat. My brother and I anxiously wanted to play on the playground, we kept asking to.
“Finish all your nuggets first than you can play”. She always smirked while saying that. I would get a little mad, but I knew she was right. My brother always managed to finish his food before me, but he was always nice enough to wait for me. Looking over the table, I saw her eating her filet-of-fish wearing her sunglasses and colorful shirt hugging her purse. Every time I picture her, I see her that way. Looking to my side, I see my younger brother wearing his Tony Hawk shirt and pants with a spike in the front of his hair. He thought the spike made him look cooler. People on the outside looking in would see an anxious little girl in pink clothes eating her food in a speeded manner sitting with her grand-mom and brother enjoying each other’s company.
My favorite part of the happy meal was getting the toy at the end, we had to wait for that too. We always told the cashier one boy and one girl happy meal. After I finished my food, we could finally play and we brought our new toys with us. My brother raced off, “Let’s go!!!” We raced to the top, played hide and seek, tag, everything. We made friends with other kids on the playground and played with them too. My grand-mom would sit on the bench and watch us through her sunglasses, she knew we were safe because there was a green gate surrounding the playground. She brought along her Polish magazine to read, occasionally looking up and laughing at us making funny faces through the window. We played for about an hour or two and she did not mind, probably was glad that we would be tired out when we got home.
As we left, I would stare at the big M sign and watch us drive away from the playground. My grand-mom was driving, “Don’t worry we will be back again next week” and I knew we would be. During this time, I was a kid in elementary school who did not have a care in the world, having a fun-filled childhood. As I’ve grown, I am no longer seven years old playing at McDonalds. I am 18 years old, in college courses, living on my own. I am also the same happy person with a fun-filled life who loves her family. Looking back, I am happy to have had these memories to hold onto.
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