Ice cream sundae

Last night before I went to bed I toyed with the idea of making myself an ice cream sundae. I didn’t really need it, but it sounded good. I asked my husband if he wanted to have one with me. He said no. Not that that’s deterred me before, but I just had this feeling that it wasn’t the ice I was craving — it was something else.

I talked myself out of the sundae and turned to my journal. I went to bed with a clear head and fell asleep easily. This morning I felt ready to face the day. Happy.

I am sitting here in my house with the hot sun shining through the windows. The house is stuffy and the heat is close to unbearable. But like that sundae last night, I don’t really need the air conditioner.

I just finished eating the ice cream sundae that I wanted last night.  That very same one I was craving but talked myself out of. Vanilla ice cream and dark chocolate syrup topped off with a big handful of roasted peanuts. It hit the spot. It felt right today as I sat in solitude and silence and ate every bite slowly off a tiny egg spoon.

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For the next half hour I can sit and bask in the afterglow (ha!) of my ice-cream encounter. My son won’t be home from a play date for a half an hour and my daughter is napping.

I just started reading Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg. At the end of the third chapter she writes, “Sit down right now. Give me this moment. Write whatever’s running through you.”

That’s where I left off reading this morning at the pool. I didn’t have a pen, so I booked marked the page and watched my son finish taking a swimming lesson. Had I had a pen, I would have sat and written a few lines in the book. Instead, I had some time to think about it while I ate my ice cream sundae.

Here I am. Sitting down. In this moment. Writing what’s running through me.

The dog is snoring. The fan is oscillating. The cars are driving by. The birds are chirping. There is a vein on my right leg that is bothering me. It’s always the one that keeps getting bumped because it protrudes a little.

I can’t believe I am writing about a vein.

I guess it doesn’t matter. Writing is writing.

The breeze is blowing. The sun went behind a cloud.

I love it when the ice cream gets all melty and creamy as I am eating it. Toward the end of my sundae today the vanilla ice cream was completely saturated in the dark chocolate syrup. Too saturated. So much so that I had to get up and add another big scoop of vanilla ice cream.

It feels good to sit here and write and bask in the summer sun and enjoy the satisfaction the sundae brought me. I don’t think the sundae would have given me this feeling last night. But now? Yes. I can sit and relax in contentment. When my time is up, I can go flush out my system with water and begin the next part of my day — late afternoon time.

The afternoon will involve children, and I’ll be ready for them. I’ll know that I had an ice cream sundae in silence and they didn’t get one. I’ll smile and play with them (maybe) and turn the sprinkler on for them. Then it’ll be time to get dinner around.

I’ll feed them, instruct them to clear their plates, clean up and watch them go about their business as the evening arrives. If they are deserving, like I was this afternoon, and the timing is right, I may even offer them an ice cream sundae.

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