The Taste of Summer

What is Summer?

Is it merely a season of the year, is it camping in the woods exploring off the trails, or perhaps it is being huddled around a bonfire at the beach in the dark with friends and family.

The smell of the lake water you're drenched in. The sound of laughter echoing all around as your childhood embraces you. The crackling of a fire that's just perfect for toasting marshmallows.

The answer is yes, and the answer is so much more than just, yes. Summer will always mean something a little bit different to everyone. It's a time for adventures, a time for family getaways, a time to reminisce about Summer Camp stories.

Summer means all of these things to me, but there is a particular memory that will always mean something a little more to me. A feeling that reminds me of what I loved the most about Summer growing up.

My favorite Summer memories weren't the ones spent crossing State lines or riding the most fun rides at amusement parks, or even the days spent lakeside. These are dear memories, but there will always be one more dear than the rest.

My Summer starts with a sound, an iconic sound that children the world over know by heart. My little brother and I were prepared. We'd been playing all day in the sun, riding our bikes throughout the neighborhood, and playing tag with our friends. Jumping through sprinklers to stave off the heat just a little longer. Just until we could hear it. The single simplistic tone that lit our faces up with joy and made our hearts pound in excitement.

The ice cream truck was finally here.

The moment we could hear it, we were off. Every child within a three-block radius was running towards the sound that meant one thing to us. Sweet, refreshing, delicious ice cream. Summer. I remember our Mother calling after us warning us not to spoil our dinner, but our Father had already slipped us a few dollars when my brother and I had asked in the morning.

We'd been waiting all day for this moment, nothing could stop us now. As we reached our destination the ice cream truck man greeted us with the same big smile we came to love and expect. He laughed as he told us to get in line patiently. I remember always staring at the menu on the side of his truck so intently every time, even though I'd end up ordering the same treat I always did. I couldn't help but stare every time.

Our turn finally arrived and I let my little brother order first. He too had a similar habit of always ordering the same thing. An ice cream sandwich was his guilty pleasure then. When the driver looked at me for my order I quickly ordered one Spongebob Popsicle. The lovable cartoon character was such a delicious delight. Fruit punch, pineapple, cotton candy, how could any combination of flavors ever be more perfect? And his eyes! His eyes were made out of bubblegum! My excitement back then was palpable.

My brother and I would walk back to our house, mostly out of exhaustion from our dead sprint to meet the ice cream truck. We were all smiles from our victorious endeavor. There were some days when we missed the ice cream truck, but today was not one of those days. It was a good Summer day.

Those days that I'm so fond of, were over two decades ago now. My Summers look very different now. When I reflect on them, I realize there's a little less excitement to them now, a little less laughter than before. Perhaps that's just part of no longer being a child. The world doesn't look the same way it did to us back then.

Recently, I had the opportunity to visit home. My little brother was also back home for the weekend. We were sitting out front on the porch, just talking and enjoying the sunshine when we heard it. A sound so familiar it sounds like home.

We both looked at each other as soon as the sound reached our ears.

"Ice cream?" I asked with a smile.

"I don't carry cash anymore," He said with a laugh.

"I've got a ten. I'll race you there!" I said as I leapt up and got a headstart on him.

"It's not a race with a headstart!" He called after me but I was already down the block.

We reached the ice cream truck in record time, though we had an advantage over our much shorter much smaller selves back then. Of course, there were children everywhere. The look in their eyes, the excitement, I knew their feelings well. We let them order first and then it was our turn.

I turned to my little brother and said, "Ice cream sandwich?"

"Might as well, since we're here now."

"I'll take one ice cream sandwich and one Spongebob popsicle please," I said.

My brother made a face. "You still like those things?"

"Might as well, since we're here," I smiled.

We walked back to the house and sat back down on the porch. He was already enjoying his ice cream sandwich. I stared down at my Spongebob popsicle. It looked about as appetizing as eating a child's toy.

I took a big bite out of his head taking out one of his eyes in one go. Pineapple, fruit punch, cotton candy. Whoever thought these flavors go together should be charged with a crime. And his eyes! Stale bubblegum. It made it so awful I winced.

"Regret it?" My little brother said with a smug smile.

I laughed. "I hate every second of it."

We laughed and laughed about it.

It's a terrible popsicle. The flavors make no sense, the bubblegum is a crime against tastebuds everywhere and the presentation is questionable at best. And yet.

As I sat there eating that terrible popsicle I was taken back. Back to a time when there was nothing more I cared about in the world than chasing down that ice cream truck with my little brother. When our days were carefree and all that mattered is that we had each other. We had so much fun together.

It tasted like pineapple, fruit punch, and cotton candy jumped in a blender, and then you decided to drink it for some reason. It tasted like stale bubblegum that I wasn't even sure was edible anymore. But I loved it.

I loved every bite of that terrible popsicle sitting next to my little brother in the sun while he ate his ice cream sandwich and we laughed.

It tasted like Summer.