I love ice cream. In a cone. Not in a dish, not as an ice cream soda or a shake. These all leave out the best part of enjoying ice cream. The lick - tasting the cold creaminess on the tip of my tongue and having to lick fast to avoid the same cold creaminess from running down my arm. And then there’s the contrast of biting into the crispness of the cone itself, a strategic bite to ensure just the right amount of cone is broken off along with just the right amount of ice cream. Eating an ice cream cone properly takes practice.
I do limit the number of cones I eat so I don't overdo the sugar thing which allows me to make getting an ice cream cone into an outing. Once in a while we’ll go to the ice cream stand that unfortunately opened up about a mile from my house. It’s a cute little farm stand with an ice cream window that, much to my dismay, is open year-round.
The other place I like to eat ice cream is at the beach which is more happily an hour from my house. This makes for a true outing. I love driving over in the late afternoon, going for a walk on the beach, getting my cone and sitting on the retaining wall facing the ocean to watch the waves. Sometimes, if we go late enough, the moon will be rising and the sight of it can be quite spectacular. I remember one time sitting with my cone and a Supermoon rose up from the sea. I had inadvertently received a large sized mocha chocolate chip in a waffle cone which matched the moon perfectly.
An ice cream cone is one of those things that brings me an immense amount of joy. It was hard to put my finger on why until I realized that it reminded me of summers as a kid when my mother would load us all in the car and take us to Pinecroft Dairy. She loved ice cream and I have fond memories of her teaching us her technique to lick the ice cream so it wouldn't drip. I think I was a chocolate girl back then.
After my mother died, I ate a lot of ice cream. That’s when the ice cream stand by my house opened up and I found myself there regularly. It helped with the sorrow.
I’m grateful that I became conscious of where my love for ice cream came from and that I allowed it the freedom to express itself. It wouldn’t have made sense for me to deny myself those sacred moments.
Now, as time has gone on, I’ve been able to step back and enjoy a more occasional cone. But doggone if every time I eat one now, it reminds me of my mother.
REFLECTION: Do you have foods that hold a special memory? Do you allow yourself to eat them? Perhaps you have a food that you crave and you're not sure why. Can you sit with that desire and ask it to show you what it offers? The foods we are most fond of can hold amazing stories if we allow ourselves to open to them.
If you'd like to share your reflection, please post below. It would be an honor to hear what you have learned.
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