Summertime Gratefulness

It was summertime. The temperatures were well above 100 degrees, maybe more. I grasped the popsicle in my hand and gingerly, carefully, unwrapped it with excitement. As I threw the wrapper in the trash, the popsicle suddenly became very watery, my hand very sticky, and I heard the pop drip slowly onto the floor. My popsicle wasn’t cold enough. It had melted enough to turn into drops. I sighed as my pop drooped over and landed in a heap on the ground with a splat. 

“I  guess I gotta go to the store and buy more now.” I said with remorse, looking at what my popsicle had become. 

I cleaned up the mess, grabbed my bike and a few dollar bills from my money stash. It would only be a few minutes, 30 at the max. I opened the front door, and I made my way to the grocery store. The grocery store was only a few blocks away. I reached it in a matter of minutes. As I parked my bike, I saw colorful, lively banners outside of the store promising some good, cold treats waiting to be bought and eaten. I walked in with adrenaline pumping inside me with hope of coming home with a big, cold box of popsicles for the whole family. The grocery store wasn’t extremely crowded with people as usual, so I sprinted to the frozen food aisle, expecting to see great, brightly colored boxes of cold popsicles galore. But when I reached the popsicles, I saw a white sign stretched over the popsicle freezer with bolded black letters that stated that: “The popsicles were unable to reach this building due to the heat wave that melted them all. We apologize for any inconvenience.” I heard a “DUN DUN DUNNN” sound in my head as I read this sign through three times. 

“No!” I said loudly, which attracted a few heads turning in my direction in interest. I didn’t notice. I was so hot, and now all the pops were ‘unable to reach this facility due to the heat wave.’

I checked all the other frozen treats. They, too, had the white sign with those bolded black letters over them. Then, as I sadly walked out of the frozen desserts section, the last pack of popsicles that just managed to arrive at the grocery store caught my eye. Rocket pops, with the recognizable red, white, and blue style on the box. I looked around the aisle, checking if I had any competition for the rocket pops. Sure enough, another kid also was eyeing the popsicles extremely intently and hard, as if he were mocking me, and challenging me to make the first move to the freezer. He was also watching me very closely, too. He had about a 16 or 20 meter headstart. “Now or never.” I thought. I lowered down into a starting run position, and I pushed off the ground with my feet, boosting myself forward. The other kid had also gotten into a race position, and we both raced to the box. His hands reached in first and pulled out the box with a powerful jerk. I managed to just touch the box, feel the cool, cold frost that had developed on the box, then the other kid just sprinted for the checkout line, with a triumphant smirk on his face. It was hopeless. All the pops that had made it had been taken, and I had missed my chance to snatch one. I probably should have shuffled really slowly to the freezer without him noticing. Then he probably wouldn’t have had the headstart that ruined everything. 

As I trudge sadly out of the grocery store, I hear the lively, energetic music and the bright, vivid colors of unmistakably, an ice-cream truck. I instantly ran toward the sound. I had brought enough money from my stash to buy a popsicle from the truck. Just as I caught up to the truck and panted exhaustingly, “One popsicle, please.” 

He shook his head glumly. “Sorry, no more ice cream or popsicles here. Sorry, kid.”

I decided to just go home, feeling depressed and bitter. If only I had got to the grocery store earlier, or knew that the truck was there! Some other kids were partying with some popsicles that I bet were from the truck. I just needed more time. I felt like the world was taunting me, torturing the fact that I just craved just one, just one, just ONE, just ONE popsicle. As I walk home, I see multiple people in my neighborhood enjoying frozen treats on their houses, and I wish that one of those people were me, eating popsicles with delight. The door made a groaning, creaky sound as I opened and closed it shut. 

“Yeah, I feel the same way, door.” I said.

My dad walked up to me. He was a sharp man, wearing a tidy suit complete with a tie to match his brown briefcase, which was propped on the floor, sitting against the wall. “Hey, son, I brought some popsicles from work, and-” my dad said. 

My dad was cut off, because at these words, I just stopped thinking. I paused for a second to drink in these words, and then sprinted like a pro track runner to the freezer, jerked it open, and… 

There was a box of rocket pops sitting at the bottom of the freezer! The box seemed to emanate a glow, and I didn’t think clearly. I grabbed the box, tore it open, and snatched the distinctive white wrapper and just ripped it apart. I bit off a chunk of the wonderful, icy pop, not even caring about brain-freeze, and I felt like I was instantly calmed, satisfied and at peace. My dad was looking kind of bewildered and confused. These are the thoughts that traveled through my head when I bit into the popsicle:

Popsicles are one thing that I will never take for granted again, and also? Rocket pops are the best kind and flavor of popsicle. :)