There was my cousin, a year younger. It should be 10-11 years. On TV, there was Fignon Lemond or in the yellow jersey. The open skylight in my room. The smell of cut grass or slate boiling. Was it at the beach today? Hunting for shrimp in perspective. Or simply an afternoon of video games? Teen stashed in a bedroom of a teenager.
My mother returned from grocery shopping and brought ice. Quick, we eat them, otherwise they melt. Cones, ice water, or other, they still represent for me a symbol of summer. Rare treasure, because parents never invested in a freezer. My father was still smiling when he told when I m'enfilais, from 3-4 years, large Cones Kim Miko.
Well, I'm getting a Hagen Daas.
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