I was sitting on my couch last night, taking a few minutes before going to drawing class (I'm taking a night drawing class. It's been awesome).
Outside I heard bells. That song! I actually had to listen hard at first because I couldn't believe it. Is that what I think it is?
"An ice cream truck!"
That big familiar white truck. Driving up the street. And the memories rolled in. We used to have one that came up our block in Granada Hills when I was a kid. I'd hear that same sound and wonder if I had enough time to run home, get some change and catch the guy. Sometime a few other kids would pull him over and buy me some time.
I woundn't always make it. And sometimes my mother wouldn't let me get anything.
Last night there were no kids. Just a lonely truck driving up the street. I felt sad. I should've run out to buy something from him but it was time to leave for class. And so it goes.
Ice cream men are a thing of the past. I started wondering, does he have a family? I hope he still sells enough to feed them. It's probably his second or third job. In my opinion, an ice cream man should make a good living. He brings joy. There are a lot of trades that no longer earn much money, but should in my opinion.
I suppose there are also new things and professions coming up. That's the way it works. It's just change. Simple and real. Everything changes. Growing up is a trip. Literally. If he comes our way again, I'll be ready. I wonder if he still sells the Rocket Pops. Although my personal favorite was always the classic ice cream sandwich.