Ella and Clear Nights in the Country

It occurs to me that it is easier to feel both infinite and insignificant when the night is clear enough to see the Milky Way.

As much as I love the go, go, go feeling to the city, I only ever recognize my tiny place in the universe when I’m alone in the country.

And I feel like crying not because I’m happy or because I’m sad, just because I exist in this parking lot, staring at the sky, being buffeted by wind.

As always, you can also find me on tumblr at http://emleng93.tumblr.com/, if, you know, you’re into that kind of thing.

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The Frozen Milk Debate

Cecelia thinks that it’s nuts that I will only eat one flavor of ice cream when I go to the ice cream place when I am at my beach house in the spring and summer. But the way I see it, why ruin perfection?

You can’t get homemade, rich, chocolate ice cream with small bits of Milky Way just anywhere. It’s special and sacred and tastes like summer and happiness. It defines the freedom of summer vacation and the excitement of spring weekends.

I get one scoop of it in a sugar cone, and it drips down the sides, covering my hands and sometimes working its way down my arm to my elbow. Often I have to get a cup and a spoon so that I can push the ice cream further into the cone so that the large scoop on top won’t fall off. The cold bits of Milky Way make my molars stick together and I have to use my tongue to pry the cold, sharp, sticky bits of caramel off.

And when it’s all gone, I always have to have a cup of water, because ice cream has salt in it, you know. I dip a napkin into the cup and scrub at my face and hands, before I gulp the water down. And then I walk home with my mouth still tasting like my favorite dessert in the world.

It’s wonderful.