by Nancy
(Cleveland, Ohio)
The temperature that July day soared to 95. My brother and I, joined by the little boys next door, sat on our front steps, awaiting the arrival of the milk truck.
When it arrived, we hurried to it, clamoring for ice. The smiling driver gave each of us a cube of ice, which we held while we ran back to the porch. We chomped into these already melting treats.
Now I smile as I remember these long ago days and the early1950s method of delivering milk, kept from spoiling by ice cube treats.
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