childhood

For the first time in about a decade, the ice cream truck drove down my street, ringing its bell.

My sister and I got sprang into action, grabbed some change and ran outside like we did when we were kids to get some ice cream. Sure, we had ice cream in the freezer, but it's by far inferior to any ice cream that comes from a truck with a bell.

We reached the driveway grinning like idiots and watched the woman driving the truck look at us, smile at us, wave, and continue driving despite our attempts to mime "Yes, we want ice cream!"

We saw her a few blocks away, selling ice cream to some little kids. The moment has passed.

It was more disappointing than the time I mistook the knife sharpening truck for the ice cream truck. (sidenote: only ice cream selling vehicles should be allowed to ring a bell in the summer.)