Rebecca Wood
November 19, 2009
ENG 3017.01
Dr. Chandler
FOCUS: a second home can also feel like a get away place.
The Coldness and Warmth of Ice-cream
Small brown rectangles molded through a creamy mint green surface resemble the same colors of the four falls of one of my grandmother’s rooms in her house. The soft texture of the creamy ice-cream mixed with the coldness of a silver spoon, as it entered my mouth, was like sitting close to Nana on a cold winter night. Every room in Nana’s house was known by a different color; the green room, the pink room, and the tan room, which was determined by the color of the walls and the chosen pieces of furniture. The gentle exotic color of mint green took me to places like Hawaii and Aruba, but kept me comforted in the safeness of Nana’s house.
I only ate chocolate chip mint ice-cream at Nana’s house and never anywhere else, not even at my own house. During our traditional sleepovers, she would prepare me my special ice-cream; green, flowing with bits and pieces of chocolate shapes, and drizzled with hot chocolate syrup, dripping like paint off of a canvas. The ice-cream was always given to me in a tall wine shaped glass, which was superior to all of the other simple round bowls and plastic cups. I would wait all day and sometimes even all week just to get my little taste of paradise in a secure place.
The taste of minty goodness became familiar to me over time, but yet never became outdated or anything less than unique. The subtle green color of the ice-cream and the light green color on the walls became my security blanket. I only ate chocolate chip mint ice-cream in the green room. I needed it that way, otherwise, it would be like a stranger and it wouldn’t be a journey to another special island. Nana always joined me as I ate my ice-cream. We would talk, laugh, and watch Lifetime Movies together. I would scoop up each spoonful of the ice-cream, as a new adventure arose through the predictable love stricken plots. I was only a child because I loved eating ice-cream, but I was already growing up. My ice-cream had already taken me across the world. It was something that I didn’t want at my house, just at Nana’s house.
I want to write about my relationship with my grandmother, our bond, and how that creates the secure/exotic place caused by ice-cream……………..
Eventually, Nana’s house did become my house. In the summer of 2000, my mother, sister, and I moved in to live with my grandmother. My room was the green room. I packed all my belongings into the four small green walls, which was not much bigger than the size of ice-cream filled in its container, but contained more love than a mother watching her child take their first licks of an ice-cream cone. The place was beyond recognizable, but I wasn’t able to travel to Hawaii anymore; it was too close. I needed the chocolate chips and mint flavor to take me away during my sleepovers, but the sleepovers became my sleeping spot for two years.
Once we moved out of my grandmother’s house, I still spent nights over at her house. The trip to Disney World was still amazing, as I sat with Nana, eating chocolate chip mint ice-cream and watching Lifetime movies, but now at an older age. The thought of knowing that I wasn’t confined to a specific household anymore was spectacular. I could go back to the Magic Kingdom once in a while, but still feel a little piece of home, as I take my time, cherishing the special moment with Nana. I still don’t eat chocolate chip mint ice-cream at my house.
At the age of 20, I can still spend a night at my grandmother’s house, eat my favorite exotic ice-cream, watch a Lifetime movie, and feel like I’m a five year old child waking up on Christmas morning.
I am going to add more here in my reflection. I want to talk about my relationship with my grandmother now and maybe add an event that we spent together currently that involved ice-cream……………….
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