pocket postcards vol. 2
Dear Bonnie Brae Ice Cream,
Thank you for making all your ice cream and cones on the premises. If you didn’t, I wouldn’t have been positively drawn to your doorstep by the heavenly smell of cooking waffle cones wafting to greet me a block and a half away. You gave me no choice and I simply had to stop in after my walk to the library last week to get a scoop of ice cream. You’re a delight and a treasure.
To the governor, mayor, dog catcher, neighborhood watch rep, or appropriate local authority: How do we go about naming Bonnie Brae an official state treasure? I assume there’s a plaque involved. Or a medal. Get into it, wouldn’t you?
To waffle cones: You smell so delicious, you should be a perfume.
To mint chocolate chip ice cream: You are equal parts refreshing and comforting, how do you do it?
To the two teenagers who were scooping ice cream for me and the fleet of five- and six-year-olds that overtook the shop on that hot afternoon: You’re the true heroes.
To the notion that we should only indulge in such simple pleasures on “special occasions”: To you I say, what could be more special than a sweet afternoon walk through your beloved neighborhood on a warm summer day? Embrace the beauty in the ordinary and every day. There are many more special occasions to be found in our lives than we typically give ourselves license to enjoy.
A 30-year-old Waffle Cone Enthusiast