Ice Cream 'Daze'

The color of the sky as the sun began to set today reminded me of the rainbow ice cream I loved so much as a child. Stepping onto the porch, I shivered in cold as memories of forgotten childhood slowly revealed themselves to me- triggered by the significance of the vibrant hues in the sky.  And it was as though I took an involuntary leap back in time- a vivid image of the gravely road I walked along as a little girl resurfacing as I headed with my mother towards Macio's- the neighborhood mini grocery.  And I remembered Mr. Macio selling delicious hotdogs and even more delicious ice cream.  I always got a hefty helping of "rainbow"- a mix of blue, cream and pink flavors with an impalpable, subtle relation to vanilla.  My mother always preferred the butter pecan. Even though I knew mine was the much better tasting of the two, I couldn't resist the temptation of tasting hers too.  While I savored every fine second with my ice cream, I keenly remember a feeling of impatience and agitation as my rainbow always left a messy, runny trail down my little hands- melting faster in the southern heat quicker than I could eat it.  And sticky hands were the result!  Sticky hands were no fun for a little girl who viewed going inside as punishment or the end to a long, satisfying but tiring day of fun outside. 

 I long for, I miss the days where you could have ice cream, where ice cream was marked by some celebration or some sign of comfort.