When I was nine, I was crying.
"No ice cream. That is final."
And for the next week I wouldn't shut up about that ice cream.
I kept raving about how good ice cream was.
Its creamy rich texture.
The soft sweetness.
How it'd be better than every other dessert in the damn world.
I spoke praise so good, people would call me a middle schooler.
So when my mom finally let me have some,
my face was so smug
until I tasted it.
It was okay.
--
When I was fourteen, I was pouting.
"We're not buying an ice cream machine."
"But ice cream would taste so much better
if we made it ourselves!" I said.
Imagine how much the time and effort
and the quality ingredients would make it taste.
We would make it nice and slowly
churn and churn slowly
so the ice crystals were small and luscious.
There'd be some mistakes,
but with time and love the recipe would be right.
I made powerpoints to convince them!
They said I was already a high schooler.
So when my dad finally bought one,
I was so excited,
until I had to buy the milk
and the sugar and extracts too.
The ice cream tasted good, but
it was okay.
--
When I was eighteen, I was sobbing.
"And where are you getting the money
to start that business?"
"I'll work for a little while, okay!"
"I'll work at Susan's, she'll teach me!"
But my parents never understood
why I wanted it for a living,
why I wanted to keep searching
for something perfect.
Neither did I.
So when my parents finally gave up on college,
I felt so eager to start working,
but uneasy.
--
When I was twenty-seven, I was wimpering.
"It's okay, dear. You had lots of good flavors."
"It's hard to sort out the business side of things."
"Suzy would be proud of your passion!"
"I'll find some way to make it up to you"
"I'll just work and develop recipes on the side"
But when they refused to let me help
recoup the money from their retirement,
I felt so lost.
Not an inch closer to my dream,
but further away from them.
--
When I was thirty-two, I was reeling.
I thought by sharing my love
with the people around me,
I would find it.
But I couldn't make it work.
I thought if I could find a partner
to share it with,
someone who had the same passion and drive as me,
we could find it together.
So when I heard,
"I don't care about your damn ice cream, okay!"
my heart sank.
I guess those moments we shared,
the conversations we had,
they weren't it.
--
Why oh why?
Why could I never find it?
And when I felt like I had it,
it was never quite right?
It left me empty
Just, okay
