The other evening, Grace and I went for a bike ride.
Stanton and Anna were elsewhere; I appreciated having some time to spend with my older daughter.
Grace and I hopped on our bikes. Eased onto the Rail Trail.
The Rail Trail is just a block from our home, which I'm so grateful for. It helps keep us healthy—not just physically, but emotionally too.
Having the space to move among nature...to breathe in the scent of pine needles year-round; to see cottonwood seeds falling like marshmallows from the sky in springtime, as we did that evening.
Grace and I pedaled through the cottonwood seeds.
The sun was getting low, but hadn't set yet.
Here and there we chatted, but mostly we biked.
We biked past the Stewart's next to the park we like to go to. Grace raised her eyebrows at me.
"Yes," I said. "We'll stop for ice cream on the way back."
Grace grinned.
We kept biking.
Past the Little Free Library (the first one). Past the memorial bench engraved with the Bob Dylan lyrics "May your song always be sung." Past the second Little Free Library, the one in front of the fire department.
After we'd biked about 3 miles, Grace and I pulled over. I'd brought a water bottle, and we took turns drinking from it. Then we began the ride back home (but first, to ice cream).
Then we began the ride back home (but first, to ice cream).
Riding back was easier because the Rail Trail, going east as we were, slopes downhill. Grace and I cruised along, not having to pedal so hard.
"I wonder if these will be some of the things you remember," I said to my 12-year-old. "When you're older...if the Rail Trail, and ice cream from Stewart's, will be, you know, core childhood memories."
Definitely, Grace said.
Which made me happy. Because all the times our family has together on the Rail Trail and Stewart's afterward—I love them.
Then Grace asked, "What are some of your childhood memories?"
I smiled, touched by the thoughtfulness of the question. My childhood seems so far away at this point in my life, but... "I remember ice cream," I said, nodding.
First and foremost, I remembered ice cream too.
When I was growing up in Northeastern Pennsylvania, my mom often took my two brothers, my sister and me to Curly Creme Soft Ice Cream in the summer.
My parents did so many kind and wonderful things for me...thinking back now, though, at age 41, Curly Creme is what's front and center in my memory.
Curly Creme was (still is) a small, red-brick ice-cream shop with a walk-up window, off the side of a well-traveled road. Outside, there were wooden picnic tables. I almost always ordered the chocolate and vanilla "twist" flavor, in a cone, with rainbow sprinkles.
Heavenly.
The other day, I was chatting with my sister on the phone, and I mentioned Curly Creme. "I loved going there," I told Jenna.
Jenna laughed. "We went there a lot," she said. "Sometimes multiple times a week."
"That much?" I didn't remember that, but (as all three of my siblings would confirm) I'm not the best at remembering things.
I do remember Curly Creme, though. I do remember ice cream.
Something I've often said about my mom and dad is that the best gifts they ever gave me were my brothers and sister.
Growing up, I wasn't as close to my siblings as I am now. I was the oldest; I went off to college when my sister was 11; that kind of thing.
Now, though... In our adulthood, my sister and brothers have always been there for me (and I hope I've done the same, at least somewhat). Whether to share an experience or inside joke, or talk through something, or fill in the gaps of memory.
In my experience, you can't put a price tag on that kind of love, support and history. It's an absolute gift: family, as well as friends-who-are-like-family.
Summer-vacation season is upon us. Like many moms, I'm sure, I researched where to go, where to stay, things to do when we get there. I hope the weather will be fantastic...etcetera, etcetera, on and on.
Really, though, I shouldn't worry so much. Because I know all the stuff really doesn't matter. I know that.
What matters is...the people you're lucky enough to have alongside you for the trip.
The time together.
The ice cream.
Photo credit: Pixabay
+
Like what you just read? Then check out Melissa Leddy's e-books on Amazon.com. Short fiction and creative nonfiction writing that's engaging, witty and from the heart.
No comments:
Post a Comment