Posted in Diary, Prince Edward Island

Ice Cream

Yesterday afternoon, it was raining and my love and I walked under a large flowered umbrella toward the waterfront, toward ice cream. The set-up for Regis and Kelly was underway and the sound system was being tested. We chose from one of the ice cream shops—there are several—I had chocolate mint and he had orange pineapple. The young woman who served us was languid, perhaps because of the heat, the humidity, her nature, depression, enlightenment, drugs, serenity. Her movements were slow and her eyes looked at us out of a dream. She was unflappable. The chocolate mint barrel of ice cream was almost finished and the ice cream was hard. She went to the tap and ran hot water for several minutes on her ice cream scoop. My companion noted that a textbook was open where she had been reading — the topic was “Oscillations”. Physics? he wondered. I nodded. When the scoop was sufficiently heated she put her arm to the bottom of the white container, which she had placed on top of the cooler, and it disappeared almost to her armpit. I noticed that her arm was slender and muscular. Her other arm, equally muscular. I thought about how much work it would be to continually scoop ice cream. She did not hurry. She scooped and scooped and moulded the green ice cream to the waffle cone until the shape of it satisfied her. A fleck of ice cream, the size of a peanut, stuck to the side of her hand. She regarded it placidly, then flicked it back into the barrel with the side of the metal scoop. This amused me. It was a wonderful moment. She handed me the cone. It seemed as if she wasn’t going to ask me for any money and I made a facial motion, said some words – how much? – and she said the price, took my money, gave me change. I was rushing, I was in the world, not in the dream. Our transaction finished, she went back to the sink and peacefully washed her hands. He and I drifted off into the rain, licking our ice cream cones, talking about the performance, the art of ice cream, the rain, Regis and Kelly, and our endlessly wakeful and vibrant desires.


alchemist, writer, artist, creativity mentor, seeker of beauty and joy

2 thoughts on “Ice Cream

  1. Hi Beth,
    I love this ice cream story, more about the girl than the ice cream. I enjoyed reading it and I could just envision this girl, especially with her arm up to her armpit in the ice cream container.
    It has a peaceful feeling to it.

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