Those were the days when we barely made ends meet. When we went to Luna Park, we watched other people as they rode bumper cars and the Ferris wheel. They laughed and had fun. We would not join them. My father would insist, but we couldn’t; we knew he couldn’t afford much. We enjoyed just being there, and our inexpensive amusement made our dad so pleased that we could see on his face the relief hidden in his soul.

Whenever our father was upset, we would ask him to take us to Luna Park, and he would. We never took any of the rides; not the cars, nor the wheel we adored watching so much. But it would make dad happy again. All the troubles plaguing his mind would be gone. Perhaps he was thinking how funny we were, and as he silently chuckled to himself he was forgetting his distress. Perhaps he was being proud of our rather early display of maturity.

Whenever our father was upset, we would take him to Luna Park, not the other way around.

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