There was a time in my life when I woke up every morning with an upturned face and a battery operated brain. My life was the epitome of the simple pleasures that every child endures - Christmas lights, Sega Genesis, and Roadrunner outsmarting Wile E. Coyote. Pain was an oblivion of my perfect childhood. School was looked down upon because it was merely enjoyable, rather than blissful like the rest of my life. If I had scaled my happiness as a child, one would have been be enjoyable, with ten being heavenly.

Yeah, I had some tens. I could count on at least one ten every year, because my family annually went to Union Station the day after Thanksgiving. Every year that day would come and go without the crest of my lips falling below my ears. The Christmas décor of Union Station has been etched into the back of my eyelids, creating an image that most children wish they could dream about. I’m sure that no one in our family ever intended on purchasing anything. The day was wholly dedicated to stuffing our heads with memories, memories that are responsible for my seamless childhood.

It wasn’t until the summer before my freshman year of high school that the needle on my happiness scale dropped to reality, a level that I had never experienced before. The words "Jeff, I’m leaving for a while," echoed into my head and began paddling between my eardrums for eternity. My father wrapped my limp body in his arms, did the same with my sister, and left. Three months later he came back to the house. He didn’t come in, but rather went around back and called me to come outside. We sat on the patio, the same patio in which he used to barbecue while teaching me how to play catch, and my dad told me that he and my mom were getting a divorce. My eyes cascaded with moisture. Babies don’t cry that hard.

It took me a few months to realize that my parents’ divorce was the first terrible thing that ever happened to me. In one flash before my eyes I was introduced to confusion, jealousy, and heartbreak, three common disappointments that most people encounter multiple times before becoming a teenager. I learned that tragic moments play a large role in determining our futures. My parents’ divorce made me a much stronger person, a person aware of the consequences of life, as well as the blissful leisure of childhood. I now understand that life is not about perfection, but about learning and developing from the imperfect moments. The sudden split of my family has taught me that depressing moments in life are inevitable, and that there is no way of knowing what the future brings. I can assure myself, however, that I will cherish the my greatest moments and learn from the obstacles along the way.

I no longer wake up every morning with an upturned face, and I am better for it. It took me thirteen years to realize that batteries run out, so now my brain runs on emotion. I have gone to Union Station every year since the divorce, and I plan on going for the rest of my life. I no longer go because of tradition; I go to give myself the emotion that I need to live, and to remind myself to thank God that my life is no longer perfect.