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A quote: “Three grand essentials to happiness in this life are something to do, something to love, and something to hope for.” ~~ Joseph Addison
I’ll start with a story …
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I’m weeping.
And over such a small, silly thing.
Sarah had some extra portions from this morning’s milking. Peter and Josh had fetched ice from storage. Grandma Ruth opened her kitchen and came up with the churn that finished off the deed.
The whole village welcomed us last year, tenderfoots though we were, to living without all the modernities of citylife. Without the restrictions on everything from food to family.
Steve hugs me and we watch Lizbeth’s eyes widen in wonder at her first taste of ice cream.
I wipe away my tears, such a small, but not silly, thing.
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Now, it’s your turn.
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. featured image, cropped, Adobe Stock standard license
When I was young, Uncle Bob and Aunt Mary took me to an ice cream parlor for my birthday. I still remember standing by the counter, looking into the freezer at all the varieties. Until then, I hadn’t even imagined there could be so many different flavors of ice cream. The little store in town might have chocolate as well as vanilla, and if we went to Des Moines the big HyVee’s and Walmarts might have a dozen. But this place had so many that choosing Just One had brought me to the verge of tears. I still don’t remember whether I found some way to make a decision, or my uncle and aunt ended up making it for me, but they never took me back. It was only when I came out here to California and was living in Silicon Valley that I went to ice cream parlors again, mostly when I was dating.
Now I have children of my own, and I wish I could take them to an ice cream parlor like that. It’s not like they don’t know what ice cream is — a carton or two are pretty usual items in any run to Eureka. But it’s just not the same as getting to choose from a huge glass-topped freezer and being handed that fresh-dipped cone in a little paper wrapper. But the secrecy of Sparta Point’s location and capabilities is far too important to the struggle to restore the Republic, so such treats will have to wait.
Cameron says: Single and raising a kid is not easy. My parents and my wife’s parents live too far away to provide much in the way of support so we make due.
Used clothes. Home cooked meals in bulk. The occasional visit from the local church. My boss is understanding and he gives me flexibility in my hours but in return, I don’t make as much as others.
But today, things are starting to turn around for us. And that’s why we’re at the ice cream shop and I’m smiling at my daughter and saying “Go ahead. Pick out what you want.”
Navig8r says: Like many three year olds, I would pick up advertising jingles and repeat them like a broken record to the amusement and/or indulgent annoyance of adults. This time it was about Baskin and Robbins. Suddenly I was petitioning vigorously for Baskin and Robbins and thirtyone flavors. My parents agreed we would go as soon as I learned to count to thirtyone. With coaching, encouragement, and much motivation I learned quickly. Then came the big surprise when they lifted me up high enough to see in the display case and I got my first revelation of what the number thirtyone meant.
Dupin says: “Naner split, please.”
“Honey, you won’t eat it all.”
“Naner split, Mommy, with choc’late, nilla, an stawbearly.”
“It’s too big.”
“Let her get it, Hannah” I said. “You’re the one who said she could get whatever she wanted.”
“But.” She sighed. “Okay.”
Sara carefully carried her banana split to the table, against Hannah’s better judgment…she might drop it. Sara took two bites of strawberry, three of chocolate, and finished the vanilla. She ate the ends off each banana half before sliding the rest to me.
“Here, Daddy.”
“None for me, dear?”
“You didna want me to get it. Daddy did.”
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