Reflections on Ice Cream

I have recently been having a very intense craving for a root beer float.

I had one during a date night with Elizabeth on Thursday and the float was very disappointing. Soft serve vanilla ice cream just doesn't cut it. Thankfully the rest of the date was delightful!

Finally, I remembered to get some root beer and last night I indulged in what is possibly the most perfect of all desserts.

What I didn't expect was how sad it made me.

I was quikly transported back to a time in my childhood when Kelson family get-togethers almost always included root beer floats. My grandma would make the root beer with "help" from my cousins and I. My grandpa would pick up a restaurant sized tub of vanilla ice cream. Everyone was happy, laughing, and enjoying each other's company.

Here, in a time before social media and sensationalized news tainted every single reaction we could all contribute to the rewarding and innocent experience of having a root beer float.

It is often devistating to me that we are past this time. While growing up certainly contributes to the feeling of lost innocence, I think that this time we're living in makes connection like the one I've just described so difficult.