Imagine's Journal

We lived across from the Junction Ice Cream stand when I was a kid. Talk about the luck! As it turned out, our weekly allowance (could it be mere coincidence?) was exactly the cost of one, single scoop ice cream in a sugar cone. My oldest sister liked Pistachio and Mint Chocolate Chip as I recall. My other sister liked lots of different flavors. There was always much discussion over the more exotic choices. My Dad was crazy about the ones with nuts and carmel. . . Butter Pecan, maybe? I forget what the flavor was called. And, maybe it was a guy thing, but my brother liked Maple Walnut, another nut and sweet combination. My Mum usually chose vanilla, but not always. As for me, I got chocolate every time. Always. Week in and week out year over year, I got chocolate. Why question perfection, I thought. I know what I like. Chocolate makes me happy. For whatever reason, this got under the skin of my next older sister. She kept trying to tempt me to other flavors. I stuck with chocolate. At least until one day when I simply didn't. Working my careful way around a single scoop of home-style banana ice cream, I had an epiphany. I knew then that chocolate had become more of an emotional habit than something I actually *liked* on it's own merits. While chocolate was fine, banana rocked the world and strawberry, well. Strawberry *did* kinda roll.

What's weird? What's weird is when you think you know something. Really know it, and know how you feel about it, then, in a single instant of revelation all is reversed. Okay, maybe not *reversed* but perhaps permanently changed. I mean, it's not like chocolate sucks or anything. It's fine. It just isn't really what I thought it was.