The popsicle juice dribbles down my chin, and almost instinctively I catch it with my tongue. Flavor dances on my tastebuds as I muse about the riddle on the popsicle stick, cradled for a moment in a peaceful popsicle-repose.
All of a sudden, the memories race each other back.
Whoosh. I'm five, it's Brookline. I'm rollerblading with Ruby when the familiar music-box melody of the ice cream truck crescendoes as it nears. Frantically we stumble towards our houses, ready to grovel at the feet of our parents and babysitters for a bit of change. Popsicle, popsicle...
Whoosh. I'm nine, it's Newton. I'm on the swings with Sylvie when the familiar music-box melody of the ice cream truck ricochets off the brick walls of our school. We jump off the swings and sprint to the truck, counting pennies and dimes in our pockets. Popsicle, popsicle...
Whoosh. I'm fourteen, it's California. I was posing for a Darfur rally picture with Katrina yesterday when the familiar music-box melody of the ice cream truck stirred dusty memories. Popsicle, popsicle... One glance at each other and we remembered what to do. Without hesitation we handed the crinkled dollar over to Mr. Ice Cream Man, and something childishly excited inside me awoke.
I realized that my childhood has been characterized by popsicles. Popsicles in times of joy, in anger, and in sadness. What is a better comfort these days than a little frozen block of sugar - a simple reminder of simple, happy times? Times of less pressure, of less drama, clear of the intricate, mind-crushing webs of thought that constantly cling to our consciences.
It's pleasantly simple.
The thought floods the mind and echoes its happy mantra:
popsicle... popsicle... popsicle...
Kiss from a Cherry Popsicle by Adorkable-3
...popsicle!
yay popsicleeee:D
ReplyDeleteDid you ever see that ice-cream truck Charmed episode? You know, where the demon kids were abducted and stuff?
ReplyDelete[ back to reality ] :: It's the same thing for me, except I like lollipops :D