The Truck in the Vestibule

Little Eileen was making herself known during Sunday Mass, so I whisked her out into the vestibule behind glass doors. Shifting my weight from one foot to another, I rocked back and forth, back and forth, soothing her into some semblance of quiet. Just beyond those isolating doors, a small blonde child wore a face that was at once stricken and longing. It was three-year-old Maureen struggling near the end of the pew as two of her sisters stopped her from running toward me. The moment she realized she would not be able to pass them, she released one long, loud sob far more disruptive than Eileen's tiny wimpers. Daddy scooped her up, but I could see poor Maureen catching her breath miserably, still straining for a glimpse of her Mommy rocking back and forth.

When I was growing up in New York City, the ice cream truck came by every Summer afternoon. Sometimes, if my mother had not seen me in a while, she was relieved to hear the saving strains of the ice cream man's Pied Piper's tune. She knew for certain it would bring me tearing from yard or house or alley or garage hoping for a doggy-faced cone or chocolate cartwheel. "If you didn't come for the ice cream man, I'd have called the police," my mother often said, and this was probably not too far from the truth.

Seeing little Maureen's expression at that moment--heartbrokenly held back from her glass-enclosed Mommy--she looked to me like a child who had missed the ice cream truck, or maybe one whose mother had just told her to go get an ice-pop from the freezer.

When my older girls were little, I would have been mortified to hear my three year old screaming for me during Mass, but not any more. I'm thankful for these last few years I'll have to be the ice cream truck to someone.

Comments

[Therese]

Yes Alice be very Thankful

[Ruth]

This is so beautiful, Alice. Your posts bring such a smile to my face. Thank you.

[Beck]

My heart! That was so lovely.

[KC]

This is a lovely post. My just turned 4 year old is the same.

[Jennie C.]

We get more patient, more understanding, as we realize this magic won't go on forever, don't we? I'm going to miss these babies when they stop coming.

[MelanieB]

Yay! I'm finally seeing the new banner and design. At first I almost thought I'd ended up at the wrong page, then I remembered that you said you'd changed it.

I love it. Very fresh and summery. I can almost smell the salt water.

[Kathy]

Your writing is always so beautiful, and paints such a clear picture. I immediately remembered a year ago at Mass when I walked out behind the glass doors to quiet Jack and not too much later discovered my sweet Anna in the lap of her daddy, her tear stained face, straining to catch a glimpse of me.

[Kristen Laurence]

Alice, you'll always be the ice-cream truck to your children, as my mother still is to me today. Tears stream down my face every time we part, and I'm 33 years old!