We all scream for Ice Cream

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It started with such hope. His on the top of its glistening white surface was a tiny curl. The signature of a cone artist that twirled the ic ream away from the machine in a flourish. The days are still long and hot so the cold temperature was perfect to break the monotony of the heat.

This cone came with a wrap proudly displaying its name and protecting the consumer. Gently the hand took it and held it. Then lick by lick the cone began to disappear. The sweetness rushed into the tastebuds.

Then suddenly, without warning or preparation the cone was on the ground. There was nothing to explain it, there was no one to blame it was gravity that did it. The three second rule did not apply. The cream slumped when it het the concrete. It unseated from the cone. There would be little chance of scooping it back up again. Its softness was now its weakness.

The sun had warmed the surface and the melting began almost immediately. By the time I saw it the white cream had slid away like a graceful breeze. When I saw it I was all alone in the parking lot. I could not hear any stifled sobs or hysterical screams. It was just me and the sad cone.

There is nothing like the death of a dream the aching sadness of loss. Its just an ice cream cone I told myself, but It kept making me feel sad. I was thinking a lot about my mom this week and my mother in law I think this cone make me thing of them. Ice Cream was both of their love languages. It was the reward, the treat the salve of life. Back when I was a kid the Dairy Queen gave a small cone as a report card reward. 

Not all sadness is bad. That little cone reminded me of so many joyful moments. It reminded me that with the bitterness of life, there is often real sweetness. There is no love without pain, it is the way of things. Cherish the good to hold you through the hard.