He woke up and went straight to the bowl of ice cream.
He dug in excitedly.
He was extremely excited.
I wondered why?
I mean it's just a bowl of ice cream.
"Hello", I said.
He was too engross to hear me speak.
"Good day", I said again, this time a bit louder.
He looked to his side to see who the voice was. But I wasn't there.
I was just a voice in a bowl of ice cream.
I wondered why he felt so excited, so happy about it.
But I don't know the answer.
As he dug in the ice cream, his face filled with joy and satisfaction.
"I love ice cream", he said with a spoon in his mouth.
Ice cream looks just like a ball of ice .
I didn't know why he was so happy until I saw him a year later.
He was lying in a bed in a hospital.
He was laughing as doctors and nurses walked in.
He was laughing, because he was about to die.
."Here, here", the nurse said . "Here you have a bowl of ice cream, on your last day."
"Thank you", he said gratefully.
Why I hadn't seen it before?
This bowl of ice cream was a gift. this bowl of ice cream was a present.
He had been so sick, he felt that he wouldn't live to see another morning. So this was his last farewell. But to whom?
To his family? To his friends? To his dogs and cats?
He felt that he wouldn't live to see another morning, so this was his farewell to the world.
The world that he loves.
So for every morning he lived with his cancer, he took an ice cream, his favorite thing in world.
Image source: pixabay
Written for @mariannewest daily freewrite prompt.
Thank You for reading.