The Ice Cream Truck

June 15, 2010

“It is the sweet, simple things of life which are the real ones after all.” -Laura Ingalls Wilder

I had just walked out the door when I heard it, and it sent me running back into the house. “Ice cream truck, ice cream truck,” I shouted. The dogs were still sitting on the other side of the door, three pairs of eyes staring eagerly at me. I had only been gone for a second, but with tilted heads and furrowed brows, their tails wagged with excitement upon seeing me so soon. That familiar summer sound made my heart smile, as the old truck continued its noisy clatter down the street; its speakers sending out a crackled, distorted version of “It’s A Small World” loud enough for every child within a 5 mile radius to hear.

“Ice cream truck, ice cream truck!” The mere words, said over and over, used to send Cain into a frenzied woof. He would run back and forth, unsure of what he was looking for, and his woofing always continued long after my chanting had ended. It was a silly game I played with him, but one that always amused me with its simplicity.

The words rolled off my tongue for a third time, only quieter this time, “Ice cream truck, ice cream truck!” The three pairs of eyes still stared at me; silent with the same puzzled expressions.

I had someplace to be but as I turned to leave, I smiled again at that familiar sound, and an unforgotten woof; happy for the music my ears still hear, and a love my heart will never forget.