Ice Cream or Moxie
In the heat of the summer, back when Willow’s mother slipped in and out of lunacy, sometimes she’d wake up at night to find her sitting on the edge of her bed. She’d whisper, “I’m in the mood for something sweet. Let’s walk to Mulberry’s. It’s a good night for ice cream.”
Willow would search her eyes. If they seemed contented, she would slide out of bed and allow herself to be pulled out into the dark.
Mulberry’s was a hike, but electric energy buzzed through her mother as they walked along. It felt like carnival rides and fireworks. Like parades and Christmas. The feeling was catching. It felt like she could walk until dawn without getting tired.
All at once, Willow wanted to skip and run! She wanted to laugh out loud and dance around, but didn’t. Instead, she stayed silent, letting the humid air wrap around her shoulders, while her mother gushed on and on about the things they were going do that summer.