The Ice Cream seller.
I remember when I was a little girl in Paraguay that at noon, after siesta time, my brothers, neighbors and me, were always waiting for the ice man seller…
With his harmonica music sound we could know he was approaching, we all had our money ready to buy the best ice ever, for us at least, we were so happy to see him, he had all kind of ice cream colors, now i guess he made them with sugars and colorant and probably tub water, but all what mattered what that he made it to our home.
Most of the days and specially afternoons use to be very hot in Paraguay…but not for the Ice cream seller, not for that person who played his harmonica to advert kids he was approaching, not for that man that had endless energy to walk long distances under the summer heat while playing his fun sounds and carrying colorful ice creams….
Now I wonder how did he do that?, day after day, for years, pushing his ice cream cart from house to house, that is the kind of hero that makes childhood happier even If I now know it was a very hard work I admire this man, I admire all people working as ambulant vendors.
Nowadays whenever I hear the melody of that harmonica I remember how happy my childhood was and how much I enjoyed to wait for the Ice cream seller.
