Grape Popsicles

Grape Popsicles

There’s something about sneaking

A frozen grape juice bar

On my porch

That screams summertime.

A rite of childhood – the popsicle.

It shouts at hot muggy days and

Yells while running through sprinklers.

Shrieks over the sound of cartoons and air conditioners

Reminding me of a time

Sixty years ago…

Grape popsicles…

Cherry popsicles…

Blue popsicles….

Blue.

What flavor was that?

Seriously what is the flavor of blue?

We never knew.

But we loved that they turned our lips

Red or blue

Our tongues purple

Our tee shirts a kaleidoscope of dripped color.

When the off-key tune

Of Home on the Range

Drifted on the summer wind

The screaming would start.

My little brother and sister

Shouting,  Keekoh! Keekoh!

(Toddler speak for popsicle.)

Time was suspended

As we dashed outside

To catch the beat-up van

Decorated in faded ice cream goodies.

We’d grab a dollar from Mama’s purse

(She wouldn’t mind, right?)

And push through the crowd at the curb

Every sweaty neighbor kid bouncing up and down.

It’s a wonder no one got run over.

I think a quarter bought one.

Maybe even a nickel.

Frosty fabulousness

For five full minutes

Then back to Scooby

Or Huckleberry.

I don’t remember when

Popsicles became

100% Juice bars.

Instead of 100% sugar water

With “dangerous” dyes.

I guess when life started

Overthinking the

Magic of childhood,

The delight of anticipation

The simplicity of fun.

My gated community doesn’t

Allow something as

Annoying as an ice cream van.

But on my porch

My grape juice bar

Still turns my lips purple

And my tongue blue

Its healthy coldness shocks my senses

And still evokes the sweetness

Of summers long ago.