Reminds me of a time when I was a boy, walking out of the dull rainbow-colored classroom. Exit and enter the squealing air of kids and parents. I lived close to my home and my mother was working so I always walked. Just beyond the school gate was a ringing bell accompanying the scraping of rubber wheels. A red-skinned Hispanic man with a baseball cap and dress shirt. An ordinary man pushing a car with glued images of the soft cold desert; Ice cream. Every child would clamor together in a huddle, just as penguins would for warmth, as we did for the sweets. Via the act of pointing to a plastic image of the desired item and relinquishing a dollar or so, one could obtain momentary glory and happiness. And a delicious dairy dessert. Some would choose a Rocket popsicle, others a bar of almond chocolate, and the rich kids would choose a Snowstorm. A bucket of white sugar orbs with a plastic shovel in the middle.
It was a simple place and feeling. Where the difference between rich and poor was a single dollar or a handful of quarters. At a time like this, there was little exploitation behind the man and us. We point and give money, he grabs and gives. The real scammers were ourselves. Desiring more ice cream but already exhausting our options of monetary bargaining, we would use tactics only used by the most heinous of men. Begging. If that didn't work, just say that you won't be their friend if they didn't give you a bite. Me? I had just a dollar and two quarters. I pointed at the push pop. The man stared, opened the icy chest of tongue treasures and granted me my bounty. A rainbow color tart thing, a fruity flavor with some juice coated on it. Each lick was nice and relaxing, as most sweated underneath the California sun. When I finished my snack, there was rotten looking gum at the end. Each occasion I had one, I'd imagine a brand of gum flavor to this sherbet pop. When I finished, I walked home. The fading noise of children disappeared with me. I looked to the sky, and I felt lonely again. No friends to walk beside me. It was a fun time and a nice time. I'm glad that I had it.
YOU ARE READING
Old Man Memories
Short StoryAn old man recounts the events of his youth, from eating ice cream on a hot day to exploring an abandoned construction site. He considers the world from the perceptive of a child, nostalgic for a simpler time.
