The distant song of an ice cream truck
Bouncing inbetween apartment buildings
Children on their bicycles scurry to the friendly Turkish man in the window handing out shaved ice
Everyone's favored sweet treat
Scooped into cheap, white, paper cups
Soggy and flimsy
I step up to the truck
Chipped paint
Rust outlining the front fender
I slip my money onto the sticky ledge of the window.
"A sky blue please."
The nice Turkish man smiles at my 7 year old self
And gives me a cup of the popular flavor
What an odd flavor it was
How can something taste like the sky?
Did he taste the sky before?
I wondered.
I grasp the flimsy cup and spoon the sky blue ice in my mouth
Sweet, but no known distinct taste
Yet so free-spirited
So light
I walk with the other kids to the soccer field
Everyone finishing their treats with one hand
Pushing their bicycles with the other
We lay in the grass
We find pictures in the clouds
This is sky blue.


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