The Ice (Cream) Man Cometh

Moving to the city has meant numbing our ears to the floors that creak above us as our neighbor moves about, blocking out the sounds of people walking up the alley to their apartments, and the laughter of next door neighbors playing with their puppy. One of the urban sounds I had forgotten about was the sound of the ice cream truck, making its dusk rounds, luring children to the street. It was surprisingly familiar and comforting. A sound that I had missed, without realizing that it was missing. I even had a favorite truck that frequented our neighborhood when I was home from college; the bell sang with random duck quacks, dogs barking and a cute little voice that now sounds a lot like a cell phone ringtone. "Hello!" it gleefully sing-songed as it sat on the corner of our block.
What's funny is that I don't remember ever purchasing any truck ice cream: bomb pops or drumsticks. The ice cream treat that brings on the memories are ice cream sandwiches, which we used to get at the pool in the summertime. Nothing tastes the same... must have been the chlorine.