
...for me, it was all about the ice cream. Sure, there were probably more "memorable" events that should way heavier in my mind, but it has and will forever lie in the ice cream. The kind that was rectangular shaped and, when unwrapped, fit so perfectly in it's similarly shaped cone. The kind that I could only buy at the corner shop where my grandparents lived when we flew back overseas to visit. The kind that stuck so heavily in my mind, that my fondest memory of England is the ice cream. Not the castles. Not the train rides through the country, nor the visits to see our old cottage.
...Just the Ice Cream.

...so when my husband and I brought our children back to the midwest to see their grandparents this summer, the first thing that came to little M's mind was the cookie tin. The cookie tin that has been in their cupboard long before my first visit as their son's new "girlfriend". The cookie tin that always houses an option of either Oatmeal Raisin cookies or Vienna fingers. The cookie tin that has my youngest one talking about it non-stop as we approach their house since visiting a year before.
...the cookie tin that has become his rectangular ice cream cone.









