I don't like them anymore.
Days of yore, they were soothing on hot days; flavor bursts of happiness on a too hot tongue; sticky sweetness that dripped down the wooden stick and deposited itself between your fingers. Colors of joy and flavors of choice. Orange, cherry, grape...and my favorite: Blue raspberry.
When Madi was about 8, I rushed to recovery to find a nurse chuckling above my daughter's bed. "What is so funny?", I demanded. The nurse waved her arm across the room, as if to cast a magic spell. "See these kids? All of them whining, crying, wailing? Your daughter wakes up, asks for you, and then tells me to start bringing Popsicles to the other kids who are crying. She says it will make them feel better."
And why wouldn't it? Comfort comes in the strangest forms. A little frozen juice; some flavored ice; a soothing memory even in life's hardest moments.
I do not want popscicles or slushies anymore, but Madi does. She does relate them to surgery, but not in a bad way. They made her feel better. They trigger different thoughts for me, now. As the memories of her pain and sickness fade with time, maybe I will want a blue raspberry slushy one hot day. Who can say?
There is a challenge here. In life's most difficult times, can you find comfort? In something familiar, something that settles your upset, something that you remember fondly? I believe we all can, and this is one of life's unexpected gifts. When pain comes; grief strikes; the world seems to end, there will be something that brings unexpected, and sometimes, unwelcome comfort.
If you cannot embrace it, simply coexist with it. There is always the chance you might decide you want it around one day.
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