Ice Cream Saturdays

When I was a little kid, I used to sleep over at my grandfather's house, usually on a Friday night, but during the summer it might be any night. I'd stay up late with my grandparents, we'd watch Wheel of Fortune, and I'd sit on the floor playing with matchbox cars, or the tiny toy forklift Grandpa got me. I'd sleep in Grandpa's room, (it took me years to ask why my parents shared a room while my grandparents had their own). Sometimes Grandpa's snoring would keep me up. Once I mentioned that his snoring kept me awake, and he started sleeping on the couch.

Grandpa and I were both early risers, so we'd get up early and creep downstairs, he'd remind me to be quiet so as not to wake grandma. We'd eat bowls of Cheerios, then go out to the garage, where we'd get our bikes.

Our route took us up his street, and down the hill, up another hill and down the back side. We'd cross the hospital parking lot, to [redacted] ave. We'd go up a few blocks to [redacted-well known local ice-cream parlor]. When I was little, I'd get an ice-cream cone, later I moved up to milk shakes. Finally, Grandpa introduced me to ice cream sodas. I liked the taste, and I liked the idea of having it like a grown-up, so I always got coffee.

We'd drink our ice-cream sodas, then get back on our bikes to go home. ON our way back down grandpa's street he'd say to me, "Now don't tell grandma that I gave you ice-cream so early, or we'll be in trouble."

Once we put our bikes away, and I watched the electric garage door come slowly down, we'd go in through the kitchen, and find Grandma at the table. She'd be drinking her coffee and having a cigarette as she read the morning paper.

I'd walk up to her, give her a hug and a kiss, and say, "Grandpa gave me ice-cream."