Ice
Cream
It
was Friday evening in early spring here in Montana. That means you can
experience all four seasons in one day if you are lucky. Having just toured our
granddaughter’s science fair at her school, I suggested to Judy that we drive
over to our favorite ice cream parlor for a little indulgence.
Well,
it’s not exactly an ice cream parlor. There’s this gas station – convenience
store on the south side of town that sells everything from milk and eggs to
fresh doughnuts. It’s a gathering hole for ice cream fanatics. They sell Wilcoxson’s
ice cream, a Montana made ice cream that is the best! You can get a heaping
styrofoam dish of your favorite flavor (ours being coconut cream) for less than
the price of a cup of coffee at Starbucks. Moose Tracks, Pecan Praline and
Huckleberry are also my favorites.
Back
to my story. Ahead of us in line at the counter was a couple with four
children. Realizing that it would take some time for them to decide which flavor
to order, I casually said, “Hey, we could join your family and pretend we were
your grandparents.” They smiled and continued to focus on the flavor options. I
was a little irritated that I had to wait while they sampled and then ordered. When
we got our ice cream and went to the cash register to pay, we were told that
the family ahead of us paid for their grandparents!
That
family’s generosity blew us away. While savoring my pecan praline, I felt
ashamed of my grumpy irritability at having to again learn the lesson of
patience. Why am I always in such a hurry? Slow down and enjoy the moment and
the ice cream.
Remember:
I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream.
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