The asphalt was hot, but it felt good against my towel-wrapped legs while I sat at the end of the driveway. Mom was up toward the house looking at a table filled with kitchen supplies. An old lady sat just outside the garage in a lawn chair and smiled at me when I noticed her.
My wet hair dripped every so often as I worked on my ice cream cone. Melted chocolate followed suit.
I stared at a fallen chip in the puddle of green ice cream and was mesmerized. The chocolate softened and transformed into a shapeless blob, light shimmering on its dark surface before oozing into the pebbled asphalt.
My shivering was finally gone. The pool had felt especially cold that morning and had left my lips blue and my teeth chattering. Even so, the ice cream shop was right next to the pool, and Mom had said that if I did well with my lessons, I could have ice cream on the way home. Cold or not, mint chip was on the menu.
“Thank you,” I heard Mom say to the old lady. I watched as she walked to the end of the driveway. “Ready to go?” she asked me. Mint chip in hand, I gathered up my towel and we headed to the station wagon.
The old lady called out behind us. “Have a good one!”