The Challege: Rockey Road

 Delia allowed her head to drop to the table, making a loud thunk as her forehead connected with the polished surface. Tax forms scattered in her wake, fluttering like so many large petals from a cherry tree until they landed on the thinning carpet below. It was ten minutes to midnight and she was still no closer to getting through the tangled IRS lingo and math that had been swirling before her eyes all evening. With a deep sigh she rose from her seat, ignoring the paperwork that had spread across the room. She would pick it all up tomorrow before going to work. Or at least once she returned home from another full day of herding other people's children in the small daycare center where she spent so much of her time.

Despite the hour and how tired she was, her feet did not take her to the bedroom but rather to the kitchen and her small, yellowed fridge with its promise of sustenance. Upon opening the main door, she ignored the chilled remnants of Chinese take-out, week-old bagels in their half-empty bag and the bare remnants of several other items best not questioned at this bewitching hour. Instead she reached for the smaller door that crouched near the ceiling of the refrigerated section, opening it to reveal a single item - her last unopened pint of her favorite ice cream. Grabbing it as a mountain climber would a piton and guiderope, Delia brought the lonely carton into the light and admired its pristine condition. With her other hand, she fumbled to one side until touching the silverware drawer, clinking utensils together in her search for a large spoon. She turned away from the ice box, kicking lightly behind her to close its door.

Such a special little feast deserved better ambience so once she had the proper tin soldier in hand for her attack on the crunchy, creamy goodness held within the cardboard and wax-covered pint, she walked with sharp, quick steps to the bedroom to enjoy her treat. After landing with a jounce to sit on the edge of her standard sized bed, she tore into the carton. The lid never stood a chance as she ripped it from its host and tossed it towards a small waste basket. It bounced off the rim and made a rather acrobatic flip in the air before settling to the wooden floor near the edge of a small area rug that lay nearby. Before the lid had touched the floor Dalia's spoon dived for its first scoop of cold, soothing wonderfulness.

Crunch. Chew. She knew she had found the cure for any disasters that life may hurl her way. She closed her eyes and savored the chocolatey goodness as it melted its way down her throat, to spread its joy throughout the rest of her body. Hmmmm...rocky road. Her favorite.

Kirsten Locke