Clink

My grandmother loved ice. She used to have me go into the kitchen and add cubes to her already full glass just so she could hear the clink clink the ice would make when she picked her drink up and set it down.

I once asked her why she liked it so much, and she explained how she grew up without an icebox and how the ice man used to come by with a huge block, chipping off chunks for lucky families able to buy some, and handing out shavings to children lucky enough to find him at the right time in the right mood (willing to share).

Ice was a luxury as she grew up... and as she got older and the world became more technologically savvy, she embraced her ability to make and enjoy ice at her whim in the fullest way possible.

Days like today (with a heat index of 105) remind me of this penchant of hers. The kind of day where you step outside and immediately feel your body lose a pint of water. Where you step back into the house after being out and all you can think about it sitting down, turning on a fan, and drinking a tall, ice cold glass of water--secretly wishing you could pour it over your head and face without ruining the furniture or giving your 2 year old daughter free reign to follow suit.

I have a tall tumbler of water waiting for me to finish this post. I will sit upon the couch, put my tired feet up, drink my lovely water, and think of my grandmother every time I hear the ice clink within the glass.