We’re leaving school yesterday. It’s early dismissal day. The day before Halloween. The air is charged, the kids are electrified. We get to the crosswalk, and the kids in orange vests are holding the crowd back. A van approaches.
This van is pink. There is cartoon lettering on the side. You can see the kids’ heads turn. A collective intake of breath. Delighted confusion. Then, the shouts start.
“Ice cream truck! Ice cream truck!”
None of them can comprehend why an ice cream truck would be driving around at the end of October. It’s like seeing Santa in August. It’s wrong, but you’re still pretty happy to see Santa, no matter what time of the year it is. Same too, for an ice cream truck.
They jump up and down. They cheer. They frantically wave the driver down. He looks confused.
He does not slow down.
As he drives by, I can finally make out the words on the side of the truck:
The kids glare at me, as tears run down my face, and the I scream with laughter.
Photo by thbl.