Such a laughing, dancing, chortling, jumping, singing, licking, jolly scene. . . a particularly joyful,
celebratory afternoon. And, on a Wednesday at three o’clock on a hot, rainy, mushy dismal, otherwise forgettable day. I had not seen the likes of this anticipatory din for---well---over seventy years. But then, I am 80 years old, and the celebrant was three. Does that matter?
A green popsicle
The asking, begging, mild jumping and clapping of small, chubby, deliciously shaped hands began mid-afternoon, and escalated in passion each minute that passed. A plate empty of veggies and meat was deserving of a green reward, and all in attendance knew the rule…. especially the ecstatic, twirling three-year-old who had successfully completed his gastronomical challenge—his plate was clean.
As the mother opened the freezer, the young boy bounced, with his tightly clenched fist raised in the air and chanted “Green, Green, Green.” With the icy delight tucked safely in his hands, the boy tore off the paper, and once again danced and sang as he licked his well-earned delight. Such happy commotion. I had forgotten . . .
A green popsicle
As my grandson happily devoured his green prize, I witnessed how a small miracle can change a day. I thought of the utter uninhibited joy that can come from magical green licks and I wondered how my world might change because of an icy colored delight. Can adults revisit their popsicle years and experience that unabashed joy? Is it possible to go back? I wondered. . .
In a flash, I bravely headed to the ice cream store in search of a green popsicle. . . .
And, the magic of childhood.