A Peppermint Ice Cream Sunday

Narrative

A Peppermint Ice Cream Sunday

By Robben Wainer

My best friend Terry can kick a goal from here to Timbuktu. Her favorite team is the Long Horns who play for Charleston. Terry once sent me a postcard from the world's larget skating rink, and also a post card from her visit to her grandparent's house in Mantioba. We were speaking on the phone, and putting things away into scrapbooks, and color forms when she decided to let me down, by telling me that I broke both her swings on her swing set. As much as I wanted to help fix them I only did what a person who is permitting and quiet will do, and offered to replace the seat, though I would need to make the boards for the seats myself.

Somehow, in our conversation while talking about how Mrs. Chassen is always so keen, sharp and charming, our hearts were in our mouths, an the time had slipped away. Terry came over with two finished scrapbooks, as she stored the color forms back in their proper place.

“ I lost my appetite, but I need a peppermint ice cream milk shake in a hurry.” Said Terry.

“ Can we still get butter pecan if this be so?” I asked.

“ Hey, well yes, no, and maybe,” said Terry.

While seeing the bus turn the street corner. Terry, and I had already started on our trip to town to visit the ice cream parlor. It was all fresh, as fresh and nice as cinnamon and spice as they say. There was a man in the center seat of the bus holding a newspaper and a dog. The bus driver said “we'll see you there”

“Terry, I forgot my pennies for a triple cone.” I said.

“No, worry.” She said. “ We will have just what we need.”

All of a sudden the bus filled up with people who all got on at once . I wasn't even sure if we would make it in time for our peppermint shakes. I had to squeeze by as Terry was already getting off in the back exit. She waited until I was already out, but the bus ride had given me tight cramps, like being tossed into the dirt at one of Terry's soccer games. But now was not the right time to bring up her day with the Long Horns again.

Those days in summer were filled with good beginning's, and many more in's, and out's that were given to chance. Let it be said, that I finally did replace the boards on Terry's swing set, but in her casual manner she complained that she had already out grown them. My humble beginning's were going to deliver a promise, when I found out my family was planning a trip to Cedar Falls. That we would stay in a hut house for vacation at the end of July.

My first experience in a hay loft was with the neighbors at the village in Cedar Falls. We left all of our games indoors, and were going to tell each other secrets, and stories about our families. My parents came to the hay loft carrying an apple crumb cake, and mosquito nets to cover our clothes, since bugs lived in the hay, and in the air. My friend's and I were getting nervous whenever our stories came to the good part, just before we had to finish the endings. It was already late, when we heard a murmur, and kayaking in the fields, it seemed a pack of foxes had shown themselves for our discovery, and I began to see the summer night only in a circles in the hay. One very athletic fox leaped straight over us, just when my parents rushed to my friend's, and me to bring us back into the huts. I was carried off in my mother's shoulder, as my father emptied a tray of biscuits for the foxes to feed on. We all simmered down inside. Cedar Falls was filled with great fun, but I was even more nervous by how scared I had become.

“ Let all those who can put their souls to rest join in.” My Father said.

“ We can all stay together, and still be safe.” My Mother said.

            My parent's and I were saying goodbye to all the families in the other huts, when we stepped into our view of the Cedar Falls, and decided this had been more rewarding than having to do the same thing over and over to make up for lost time, and with no where else to turn, but to go far far away.

“Are we all in then we're going back.” said my Parent's. I thought I had seen the foxes one last time as we drove out of the conservatory.

          Mrs. Chassen had recommended me to the cultural portraits program that was held at the museum. While I did include the Land Preservation of all landmark speeches and milestones of leaders. I learned that their perseverance did not only account for their working skills, and that many were not granted the luxury of being given cash and prizes. While I worked on my crafts fair project I remembered the stories of The Charleston Long Horns, but the last view of the falls, and my parent's rescue were more of an inspiration to my depiction of bravery, as something that is different than telling funny jokes or being helpless.