There is a small ice cream shop in our new town. It is one of those tiny, unassuming brick buildings with a large ice cream sign posted near the main street. Customers don’t enter the building, they simply walk up to the window and order from outside. The teenagers who work there write the order on a pad of paper, and then they add up the total by hand. Yep, they use real, old-fashioned arithmetic! There are a few picnic tables outside to sit and enjoy your soft serve ice cream. The line for ice cream on a hot summer day extends down the road.
Our new house is only a few blocks from this charming place, and my sister’s house is a five-minute drive by car.
So, the other evening when my niece sent me a text inviting us to join her and her boyfriend for some ice cream, I immediately said yes. My mom happened to be spending the night at my house that evening, so she came along, too.
We walked up to the window and ordered. Of course, Maddie and Katie wanted ice cream with sprinkles. It was a beautiful evening, although it was starting to get a little chilly as the sun set. There we sat at one of the picnic tables – me, my husband, Maddie, Katie, my mom, my niece, her boyfriend, and my nephew. It felt like there were ten conversations going on at our table all at once as we chatted and laughed. There were some spills (of course).
Finally, after a rocky start to our new beginning in this town, I feel as though I am home. Surrounded by family and laughter and ice cream…with summer so close I can almost reach it.