Over a week ago now, we stopped at a place called Charbroil (a small burger joint) and got ourselves some ice cream. Mom got her chocolate and vanilla twist and I got my favorite chocolate peanut butter cup (I prefer hard ice cream) cone where I always forget that it has too much peanut butter in it before I order it.
We got back in the car where Jordan and Grady were waiting, and off we went again. They settled into the secluded driver and shotgun conversation, so I put Pandora in my ears and listened to something of my own. This whole time I was licking my ice cream and loving the extra peanut butter. I pet Grady, changed a song once or twice and licked my ice cream while staring out the window and admiring the vineyards rolling by.
I didn’t even realize that I had reached the cone until the automatic response to bite the cone overwhelmed me. That’s when I found out the sad truth. The girl who had scooped out the ice cream and placed it into my cone hadn’t shoved it down to the bottom of the cone. She just scooped it and put it on the top without bothering to push it down.
So, here I was, absolutely horrified that I had licked it leisurely thinking I still had the rest that was in the bottom of the cone to enjoy. I wolfed all of the scoops on top down because I was looking forward to what was in the bottom, which is my favorite part. Then, to find that it wasn’t there? It hit me hard. And, I realized that that is exactly how life is.
We’re all too busy living as fast as we can; trying to grow up before we actually have a chance to. We wish our lives away because, apparently, being older and responsible for ourselves is supposed to be more fun than having adult supervision all the time. The truth is, it’s not.
I ate the ice cream on top super fast because of my anxiousness to get to the bottom. But, I didn’t realize what I had until it was gone. I had to push what was left of the ice cream down to the bottom with my tongue, just so I wouldn’t be eating a dry waffle cone. My childhood went too fast…now I’m trying to push as much of it down to my waffle cone of life just to coat it enough so I can remember my childhood forever. It’s almost gone, and I’m just realizing how amazing it was.