An ice cream truck and a wooden table

I remember the ice cream truck coming up the street with music coming from some loudspeaker . We rushed into the house to beg for 75 cents or a bit more if we wanted some special flavor of the day. We waited in line to ask for the treat and then took our time eating it , lingering over each part of it as if it were a found buried treasure. We  laughed and thought we were kings and queens at a ball as we sat at the wood table in the backyard enjoying this moment.

Life seemed simpler then. Maybe it was. There was no constant connection to everything. There seems to be no escape now from everything. There seems to be no sanctuary from noise.

Everyone is just so occupied with being occupied that the quietest moment seems wasteful, yet it is the quiet moment where truth is found. Your truth. Your inner place of solitude. Can you disconnect. Turn it all off. Unplug it. Switch it off. Let it go and find yourself again.

Just you racing to the ice cream truck for no reason then to giggle at the moment of tasting sweetness again.

Subscribe

Subscribe to our e-mail newsletter to receive updates.

2 Responses to An ice cream truck and a wooden table