It hasn't always been this way.

We had once been a happy family.

But since my dad died, I didn't know what to make of it. I remember those cherished moments, the ones that made my heart swell and the joy that was evident.

When I had clocked one year, my parents celebrated my birthday in a grand style. They did all sorts of things for me, they baked me french coissants, cake, took me trick or treating, bought me lots and lots of icecream, took me to the cinema to see a movie and, we came back home exhausted. My dad had collapsed on the couch and my mum, well, she sang me my favourite Barbie song, read toy stories for me and, tucked me in bed, wrapping her warm, fuzzy hands around me.

I felt on top of the world. My parents showed me constant love, they never for once shouted at me if I did something wrong as I grew a bit older, infact, those had been the best two years of my life. My mom was very happy and always bubbled with excitement, my dad showered her with lots of gifts, and would often come home with a present or two for me.

Then, the period where my mom's laziness got the better of her, we would order pizza, and those days were to live for.

I never witnessed any of their arguments or fights at any point but, there was this one time, things got a bit . . . stale.

I was supposed to be in my bedroom having my afternoon nap, but I couldn't sleep. That was because of the constant bickering my parents were having and, I had slowly crept down the stairs and sat on the cold steps, watching them closely. They were oblivious of me being there and that was because, their backs were facing me and I had taken a good hiding spot.

My mum was poking dad in the chest and screaming so bad, I thought my ears would bleed. I tried to listen to what they were saying but, I could only catch bits and pieces.

"Why did you come home late last night?" she asked, her arms folded across her chest.

Dad ran a discomfited hand through his sand, blonde hair, and sighed.

"What does it matter," he started, gesticulating with this hands. "I have always been there for you and Lisie. So, why does this one night have to get between us?" I could hear the slight agitation in his voice, his tone bothering on the edge of frustration.

"I am just scared honey." My mama's voice was croaked and I knew, she was crying. Her shoulders heaved, and my dad pulled her into a hug, and was kissing her hair, and muttering something in her ears. My heart broke for my mom.

I couldn't tell why she was crying. I never heard the reason for their quarrel, and after a minute of watching them in that same posture, I had crept back up the steps, and retreated to my bedroom.

It was a hot sunny afternoon, and I was perspiring furiously in the pink, chiffon gown my mom had gotten for me, for the summer. My dad's arms were linked with mine, as was my mom. We were taking a stroll through the busy streets, and I was enjoying watching the flapping of birds in the sky, the ringing of laughter and soft music, the tantalizing taste of my vanilla ice cream, and the different field games like soccer, basketball, volley, that were being played.

I squinted my eyes because of the harsh rays of the sun, as I looked up at my dad and smiled at him. He seemed oblivious and kept on pointing various places of exciting interests to me, and my mum. I wasn't actually focusing on what he was saying, as I just let my mind drift to the kids that were playing tags, out in the open field.

They all looked so happy, each wearing huge grins on their faces and goofy dispositions towards each other. That itself, made me smile.

I was pulled out of my thoughts when my dad hefted me up in his thick, muscular arms and kissed me on the lips.

"Ewww, daddy," I said, scrunching up my face in frustration. "You know I hate it when you do that."

My mum's laughter rang out and she pulled at my cheeks, making my face look crumpled.

"You're such a cutie baby," she said, making a face.

I always saw my dad as my hero. With his sand, blonde hair that was always ruffled, to his slightly crooked nose, down to his big lips, and macho stature, I didn't doubt for a second that he was the right match for my mum.

"And I love you honey," my dad said, giving me a genuine smile that stretched across his face, and reflected deeply in his eyes. A knowing look passed between my mum and dad, and I pressed my face into my father's broad shoulders, wishing this happy moment would never end.