It’s funny how certain things bring back memories. Sites, sounds, smells, words. Seemingly small things dust off the cobwebs that cloud our brains and transport us back in time. It happened to me today.
I heard the ice cream man. Well, not the man, the music. I heard it in the distance, getting gradually louder as it moved slowly up the street, most likely a couple of blocks away. Stopping from time to time, I can imagine children with grins spread widely across their faces waiting impatiently for their push pops, fudgesicles, and my favorite, rainbow pops. You know, the red, white and blue Popsicles that look like bombs. I was a flag waiver even then. It took me back to one summer in particular.
I was eight years old when my folks bought a brand new, never been lived in, 3 bedroom, ranch in Memphis. My mother had wall papered the living room with the idea that she would do the hallway too. She ran out of paper on the far side though so she cut the paper in a large zigzag design. It was white with pale pink and green design of some sort. Flowers probably. And I had a canopy bed and red carpet. It was magical!
It’s hot in the summer in Memphis and my friend, Lisa, who lived in the identical house across the street, and I were playing in my front yard with the sprinkler. It was one of those that waves back and forth and makes and arc and if you stand in just the right spot you can get rained on and see a rainbow at the same time. My mother toiled and sweat over that yard so the grass was as thick and plush and green as any I have ever seen. Not a weed to be found. It was soft and cool and we liked to lay in it and watch the clouds turn into designs. We lay in the grass for many hours that summer seeing castles, dragons, ballerinas, and balloons dance across the sky.
In the distance, in spite of our squeals of delight that little girls are known for, we heard it. The ice cream truck played a nursery rhyme I can’t quite put my finger on now, but I remember it sounded like bells clanking out the tune. We froze, stared at each other in astonishment, and squealed with delight again. Without another word, we both darted for the front doors of our respective homes. I don’t know exactly what transpired in Lisa’s house, but in mine, my news that the ice cream man was coming was not met with the same level of enthusiasm with which it was delivered. After being reminded, yet again, that money does not grow on trees, I realized that I was being denied! I didn’t know what that phrase meant but I did know that we would not be helping the ice cream man put any kids through college that day. I still hate both those phrases!
Apparently, Lisa got more of the same behind her front door. We met back on the curb. Sitting side by side, elbows on the knees and chins on the fists, we sat. Destined to watch as the ice cream man passed us slowly working his way out of the neighborhood, onto some other where the children’s parents must love them more. The truck got closer, the music got louder, taunting us with the occasional stops for other, luckier kids on the street. How could life be so unfair? To a couple of eight year olds, it was too much to bear. We sat on the curb, staring at the small pebbles and cracks on the new black pavement. It was soft because it was so hot and it smelled funny. As the ice cream man passed the truck slowed a bit. We looked up to tell him with great disappointment and embarrassment that we didn’t have any money that day and much to our surprise, a hand appeared out the window and several pieces of Double Bubble Bubble gum flew out the window and landed nearly in our laps! The truck sped back up to its normal crawl and made it’s way around the corner. My friend and I were again squealing with delight. The ice cream man had rescued our otherwise doomed summer afternoon. We quickly jumped up, deposited our treasures, some in our mouths and some in our pockets, and made our way through the cool, wet grass to the sprinkler. Giggling and dancing with delight, we forgot in a moment the injustice from behind our front doors and with one small token of kindness, when we stood in just the right spot, we found our rainbow.
No comments:
Post a Comment