THE SUMMER SWIRL
By: Therese Plummer
She is one of eight kids. Four girls and four boys. Born girl, girl, boy, boy, girl, girl, boy, boy. Everyone has a partner in crime. The thing she wants most is individual attention especially from her Dad. She fantasizes being an only child. She is tired of sharing and all these other people being around all the time.
It was on one of these days in the middle of the summer where the noise in the house from seven other siblings under the age of 16 was deafening that she started to devise her plan to run away. Now, she knew she couldn’t really run away, she was six, but she could in her head. She could go anywhere she wanted and be whoever she wanted and it was amazing.
She had arranged all of her and her sister’s stuffed animals in a circle and began talking to them about important things. There was a soft knock on her door. She looked up and her Dad was standing in the doorway. “Let’s take a little ride,” he said. What was happening? Where were they going? Was she in trouble? Was there a surprise? She was nervous and excited.
Five minutes later her Dad pulled the old station wagon into the beat up parking lot of the Polar Bear Ice Cream Shop! She heard the little squeal escape her mouth and clapped her hand over her lips so as not to do anything to stop this magnificence unfolding. Dad parked the car and they went to the counter. The really pretty lady in a pink and white striped shirt and paper cap asked her what she would like and without missing a beat she said, “chocolate vanilla swirl with rainbow sprinkles!” She looked up at her Dad and remembered her manners and added, “please.” The pretty lady asked her, “cup or cone?”
The anxiety hit her like a wave. Cup or cone? Oh my god this is too hard. She wanted the cone but knew it was 80 degrees and it would drip all over so the safe choice would be a cup but she really really wanted that cone. And she was a pretend only child at this moment and could do anything. So she said a little too loud, “CONE!”
She and her Dad sat on a dilapidated bench under an awning and ate their ice cream cones. Kids chased each other around but she didn’t hear or see any of it. She was an only child having an ice cream cone with her Dad. It did indeed drip all down her chubby little fingers clutching the cone as if it were a treasure. As they finished the last bites of their sweet treat Dad leaned down and said, “Sometimes you need a little one on one time away from the Gang.” he winked, handed her napkins to wipe up the soft serve sprinkle river on her dress and they headed back to the station wagon to return to the tribe.
This time she didn’t mind so much.
