Okay, well, now that I look at that title, it seems a bit sad. But hang with me here a moment…
September marks a time of transition in most households. The weather grows cooler, prime vacation season ends, children return to school, the days get shorter, and some people start new jobs.
And the ice cream truck doesn’t come anymore.
Certainly many parents are happy to no longer hear that jingle blaring from the truck cruising a little too creepily through the neighborhood. The kids…are maybe not as delighted. (Disclaimer: my children have yet to notice that the truck’s not been coming around) And why must the truck just happen to come at 5:50 p.m. every evening during dinner?
Heedless of the bargain half-gallon of ice cream in the freezer, my children grab their allowance money and rush out the front door to buy overpriced, artificially-colored treats every time the truck comes around our corner. Every darn time. If the AC is on and windows are closed, my husband and I share "the look" when we see the truck and they don't....
Perhaps it’s the thrill of being able to pick what they want from the massive menu or to get to spend their own money. There is this magical novelty about standing on the curb waiting for the truck to pass. There’s something about summer and ice cream trucks. A rite of passage for our youth, maybe? A trigger of fond childhood memories as well?
Alas, as the truck disappears until next year, summer also slips away from us before we know it. No more lazy pool or lake days. No more excursions to the beach, mountain, or beyond. No more lax schedule.
This week marks some big changes in our family, too. After three wonderful years at my current work position (education director for a church), I resigned to write full-time. Like many changes, it has come with both sadness and excitement. I’ll always cherish my time working with the youngest members of our congregation, watching them grow from doe-eyed elementary children to perceptive (and sassy) middle-schoolers. However, as my own children grow through their elementary years and our family life turns into a circus juggling act, I knew I needed to make some changes.
I took a leap of faith and now write from home full-time. I’m exhilarated to step out on this path. And terrified. I’ll admit that. Writing has been in my blood and a part of my life for nearly two decades but it’s taken the backseat to life and career demands. The decision to follow this passion full-time was not an easy one, but I know I won’t regret it. Change is part of life. Change is scary and amazing, filled with triumphs and stumbles. Change is like that ice cream truck. It comes for seasons.
Just as we’ll reminisce about those hot summer days, with ice cream dripping down our wrists as we devour a delicious cone, we’ll remember that each season of the year and each season in our life brings a new experience.
Some goodbyes are only temporary, as we know for sure that truck will be driving its route through my neighborhood next year. What lies ahead this fall? The palette of autumn with apple-picking, new routines, and scenic drives. And a new adventure for this author.
But I will always know, be it a scorching summer day or a blistering cold winter night, there is always room for ice cream.
Ice cream served in a lighthouse in Nova Scotia, Canada.