Delving into some happy heartache memories of my younger years

It's well past bedtime, the windows are slightly ajar to let the cool air in and as I lie here I can hear the whoosh of the cars zoom by. It reminds me of happy times in another place in time when I was young in India. Every morning we woke up to noise, there was no such thing as double glazed windows to drown out sound. I usually woke up to cackling roosters or to the children reciting in loud voices the multiplication in Kannada. I would cringe and try to roll back to sleep because I was on holidays from boarding school. Reluctantly, I would wake up to face the day.
My parents both lived and practiced medicine in rural India. They had their own little hospital and with only two doctors on staff and a few nurses,their life was very busy. I usually strutted up by 9 year old self to the hospital once I was ready. Most often I would trudge up to the attic sort of accommodation for the nurses and hang with the off duty nurses. I always either irritated or teased them plenty and in turn they made me favorite food kanji -probably just to shut me up. When I got bored I would go back home and play with my toys or do some reading. I always knew to keep myself entertained being the only child around. I never went to summer camp or a play-date.If anything, my parents would send me to stay at some of the nurses home. Actually I was a lot bored and begged to go to nurses homes, only because they had TV. We didn't have one because my parents were morally against having TV at home. Most evenings I had dinner at 7 pm and was left with the nurses. My parents went for their 2 to 3 hour walk. When they returned it was bedtime. Yes, life was very simple and a bit banal in my perspective then.My parents didn't spend much time with me, it didn't bother me then. I just thought this was the norm. I always felt their love for me and that's what mattered to me. We were together that's what made me happy and cheerful as a child. I never asked for much and I treasured the times we spent together. But life always throws a curve ball just when things are happily nestled in. A year later, I was told I was adopted and another year later my parents divorced. For a long time I blamed myself, trying to fathom where I went wrong. I believed it was me they didn't want and thus separated. But now when I look back to those days, I believe they were my happiest because they were the only times we were together where I felt their love profusely and I loved them and I treasured the memories we made together.