Every afternoon about 2pm I can hear the sound in the distance. It starts as a faint tinkle that you might confuse with the wind chimes across the street but it doesn’t take long to realize it’s a sound from my childhood heralding the ice cream man. I hadn’t heard that sound in years and it takes all the willpower I have to not run outside in my bare feet with my quarter (kidding!) and stand in a line I know must be 10 kids long just to get my favorite cool and creamy treat. An Orange Creamsicle. I never wavered; it was always the same thing. Something about the combination of creamy vanilla ice cream and the bit of tang from orange sherbet always did it for me. Funny, at the ice cream store it was ALWAYS Butter Brickle ice cream but with the ice cream man Orange Creamsicles held my heart.
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