Vanilla

I am a vanilla. 
Most of my friends are a chocolate.
No, it is not what you think.
It is about ice cream flavor preference.
I just want vanilla. French vanilla.  The good kind.  The kind with the specks of beans in it.  The kind that bursts with a flavor that makes me soooooooooooooooooooooooooo happy.
I think this means, elementarily, that I am a relatively simple person.
I like things basic.  Tasteful.  Clean.  Pure.
But, wait.
Maybe, what I really love about vanilla ice cream is the clean slate it offers.  To pour hot fudge on.  To add rainbow sprinkles to.  To top with heaps of marshmallow fluff and whipped cream and that one, perfectly stemmed red cherry.
It is like a page before me.  White, empty, waiting to be embellished and, hopefully, hungrily devoured.
Most of my good friends love chocolate ice cream.  Now, I LIKE chocolate ice cream.  I really like pistachio ice cream.  Or butter pecan.  Or coffee flavored.
I like ice cream.  Similarly, I like just about any book or article or movie.  I am that person who, once I begin reading or watching ANYTHING, no matter how drab it becomes, must finish it.  I will prop my eyelids open with tooth picks to accomplish this.  EVERYTHING must have an ending.
Why should ice cream be any different?  Two scoops?  Three?  Scrape the spoon on the bottom of the dish to be certain it is all devoured.  Finish it.
Give me a pure vanilla page.  Let me color it and fill it.  Let me share if you are my friend.  Let me finish what I start.  Let me be satisfied in the simple completeness of a beginning and an ending.
Is this something innate?  Is this something peculiar to me?  I believe it is just a basic, human need.  In today's world of technology and constant jumping from one activity to another, many endings are skipped. Much of life is left uncompleted.  All of our ice cream flavors are blended into one, over flavored heap of a messy sundae.
This weekend, I challenge you to try a scoop of vanilla.  With nothing on it.  And, oh, go ahead... lick that bowl clean!