After lunch today, we took a drive out in the country. It's a family tradition of sorts. Well, truth be known, it is not currently a family tradition, but it could be. You see, when my sisters and I were little, our parents would take us for long drives out into the swampy Florida countryside. We would drive and drive, occasionally stopping to look at some land that was for sale along the way. I loved those road trips. Sitting in the backseat of my dad's brown Chevy Malibou, with the golden oldies playing on the radio, and the wind whipping through my hair. There was so much not to see, and I liked it that way. We would laugh and talk or just sit quiet, and that was okay. It was a simple time, no cell phones to answer, no texting, no traffic, no nonsense. Just family time.
On one Sunday afternoon after we had completed our drive, our parents treated us to ice cream sundaes. As my sisters and I were thoroughly enjoying our treat, my youngest sister blurted out, "I love ice cream sundaes! Can we come back tomorrow and have an ice cream Monday?" Hilarious!
So today, in honor of my sweet sister, after our drive out into the boondocks of Florida, the monkeys, Music Man, and I stopped and had some ice cream. Sundaes on Sunday. Will there be an ice cream Monday? If my sister had it her way there would be.