La Madeline

My French teacher told us about an author that wrote about his childhood. There was this one memory that he wrote about so well about how his grandmother had made these pastries, and how the smell of them always brought that memory back. It was written so well, that the concept of a certain smell bringing a memory back is called "la madeline" after this pastry. I had something like that this week, but with taste.

It was my first year of teen camp. We had just finished our canoe trip and eaten lunch. Then, as tradition goes, we walked down to the little ice cream store and bought a cone of ice cream. I chose the best looking one. Black Raspberry something or other. It was amazing. It was sweet and creamy and tart and had chocolate bits in it. Mmmm!! When the next year came around, I was looking forward to that icecream. I still remembered how good it tasted - especially after the hard morning of paddling. But that ice cream shop was gone. There was another one down the street, but the ice cream wasn't *quite* as good. It didn't live up to the year of anticipation.

Yesterday I had a meeting a couple hours after school, so as tradition goes 0n meeting days (trust me, I need it), I stopped at Brahms to buy an ice cream cone - I'm trying to get through all the good flavors by the end of the school year. I already knew which flavor I was getting, since it had been recommended. The white chocolate raspberry cheesecake ice cream. After the first taste, I just kind of stopped. I knew that flavor. I hadn't tasted it in years. But there was no mistaking it. It was *that* ice cream flavor. The one I had looked forward to eating for an entire year. Memories came flooding back. The feel of the wind on my face, the smell of the water, the feel of a paddle in my hands, the soreness in my shoulders. I've never before eaten ice cream that made me want to excercise, but there was nothing I wanted to do more at that moment than to be in a canoe paddling toward that rocky beach.