Not really. The hazelnut ice cream melted in my mouth and soothed raw places left by new invisilign braces. Homemade, at that. The ice cream, not the braces.
But the eating was preceded by a discussion.
“What kind do you want?”
“Um, I really don’t care.”
“You decide- it’s Mother’s Day!”
“But what do you want?”
He picked hazelnut, and I was fine with that. Just typing that word gives me chills because as a child I was “always fine with that.”
As I let the cold ice cream slip down my throat, I replayed the conversation in my mind, wondering if I had given in or if I really didn’t care. Sometimes it’s hard to know. I’ve been waffling for so long.
This time, it really didn’t matter. But I wish I’d picked.