A year or so ago my sweet husband shared a memory with me. It was about an object from his childhood. An ice cream scoop to be specific. He remembered his mother dishing up ice cream with it for him. He said it was flat, like a paddle, with a sturdy, unbendable handle.
I called his sisters in Mississippi and asked them about it. They remembered it and described it a little more clearly to me, but they didn't know what had happened to it.
I looked online and found one or two that I thought might be what he was remembering, but I wasn't sure, so I never ordered one. I thought about it from time to time, but we continued to scoop our ice cream with a dinner spoon. It was sad.
The other day, a package arrived from my sister-in-law. A beautiful quilt she had lovingly sewn for the new baby. When I called to tell her it had been safely delivered, she said, "There is something in there for Chris. You will know it when you see it." I dug around in the box and gasped when I retrieved a bubble wrap encased something. I knew what it was instantly and shrieked a little. "We were cleaning out a drawer and found it." She told me.
My husband called on his way home from work. "Need anything from town?" he asked. "Could you grab some ice cream?"
After supper, we headed for the kitchen to dish up the ice cream. I told him I had a surprise and...
handed him the scoop. His eyes opened wide. "It was JUST like THAT!" he said. I told him, "It was EXACTLY like that! Your sister sent it to you. This was your mother's." He was delighted. "If you found me one like this, I would have been so happy. But to have the actual one that was my mom's is so special. I'm going to be serving up ice cream for my grandbabies with this!"
We scooped up the ice cream, and it worked a treat.
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