Return to Normal June 1, 2021

Many people were on the move traveling this weekend in the air and on the ground. Lifting of restrictions has the enhanced feeling of returning to normal.

Others view the lifting of masking and restaurats at 100% capacity as an indication of normality.

I have a more subtle clue.

Yesterday, I was sitting in my cedar chair listening to nature and man made sounds. I heard a sound that I haven’t heard for the last 16 monthes. The joyful tune of the neighborhood’s ice cream truck. I almost missed it amid the windchimes and laughter. But there it was, bringing all the nostalgia and memories. Like the time when I was young and I wanted a cone. I went into my Mother’s purse and didn’t know what bill I took out. I ran down and purchaased a cone and sat on the corner to eat it away from my mother’s eyes.

She was in the back yard in the recliner. I tried to rush into the house to replace the change. She must have heard me jingiling. I had no pockets but I had a top with an elastic bottom. She pulled at the bottom and all the change fell out.

Another time, we had just moved into our new home from the country and my husband heard the friendly jingle of the truck. He became excited and our 5 year old daughter did not have a clue , but she frantically followed her Dad as he gathered his wallet and ran outside. Soon, they both returned with an ice cream bar in hand.

My brother, Brian rents a Good Humor ice truck at his 4th of July picnic to feed the crowd of friends and neighbors.

All this quickly passed through my mind as I searched for my wallet.

Normality has returned. Below is a poen I wrote last summer when things were not normal.

Happy summer!

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Hearing is Believing

I rested on my back porch in my cedar chair.

To listen to the bird calls on this sultry afternoon.

Above the buzzing bees and bird song, I heard musical notes.

My memory tickled me for the source.

I bolted upright with recognization …the ice cream truck!

Opening the back door, I retrieved my wallet.

Hoping I was not too late, I raced to the front door.

Stopped. I looked towards my windchimes.

It was dancing wildly in the gusts of western wind.

No ice cream nor squeals of excited children.

Only the reality of a deserted street and a chime reminding me of happier days.

carolaspot@aol.com copyright 6-1-2021

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