riverrun Vol. 47

The boy paused, thinking about what more to say. “I like it,” he finished simply.
“I like it too,” the father said, “but don’t you want to try other flavors? You always
get Rocky Road.”
“I don’t need to try other flavors,” the boy said, licking at the ice cream in his
hand. He was getting to the cone part, now. It was a waffle cone, his favorite
kind, and sometimes he liked eating that even more than the ice cream itself.
“If you say so,” his father replied, taking the new silence to continue eating his ice
cream. He was trying a new type today, some sort of chocolate banana flavor. He
wasn’t certain if he liked it, but he wouldn’t decide until he’d eaten the whole
thing.
Behind the two of them, the ice cream shop bustled with people. Most came and
went in a few minutes, getting their ice cream and then leaving on some adventure
or another. A few groups came and stayed for a while, mostly young teens
looking to kill some time on this lazy Sunday. Soon, they wouldn’t have the time
for this. School would be back in session, and they’d have homework to do.
Most of them would probably find the time to enjoy their ice cream anyway.
The boy would be back in school soon, too. Third grade was coming up. It was a
big year, at least he thought so. Every year was a big year. Every year was another
one that he could learn and grow, and he’d been doing a lot of growing. He
liked when the school year started because it meant that he could mark his new
height on the door to his room. He liked his birthday for the same reason, and for
the attention. He liked the entire family, sitting around the table looking at him,
happiness in their eyes. He liked when people had happiness in their eyes. It
made it easier to smile.
He found it hard to smile sometimes.
But not when he was eating ice cream with his dad on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
Not when he knew that he’d be home later, and he could watch TV with the dog
until dinner was ready. Not when the next day he could play in the sun with his
friends. Right now, he could enjoy it, and so he did.
The boy bit into his waffle cone with a crunch.
“You’re going pretty fast today,” his father said, continuing to lick at his ice
cream. He wasn’t even close to the cone.
“It’s good,” the boy said, simply, and with a smile on his face.
“If it’s always the same ice cream, isn’t it always the same amount of good?”
“It isn’t just the ice cream,” the boy said as if it were the most obvious thing in the
world.
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