This? This? No. That

Summer Tastes like…

Frooties? (preferably the blue ones), don’t skimp on my bag

Chicago Style Hot Dog? (honestly, I’m not the biggest mustard fan…but ok)

Snowcone, maybe? MMM what flavor is my favorite over that shaved ice?

Icees...yeah...? Just white paper cup with frozen juice? Frozen flavored water? Just something you can make at home, but don’t. Bite the cup down to keep sucking on the frozen top, get to it all before it unfreezes, dripping down your nice white tee. Crap.

Possibly, a good old fashioned hot dog straight from the grill in my grandma's backyard surrounded by family (I’m a vegetarian now who hasn’t found the right brand for hot dogs yet)(Maybe one day)(Love my fam still though, they put my plant based "meat" on the grill to include me)

Funnel Cakes. Think “ferris wheels.” Think “They’re called Fun-nyyyy cakes.” Think “trying to walk away from your family because you want people to think you’re cool, mature, and alone.” Think “Actually your older cousins just won’t walk with you” Think funnel cakes are good with powdered sugar, but sometimes topping it with ice cream…(you don’t do that too often anymore. Oh, aging. Oh dairy)

No. I got it.

Hot chips with cheese

an essay, a poem, an explantation, a memory

Little me

The house across the street from my “I don’t know what she really is to me, but I call her Auntie” aka the “Snack Lady’s House.”

Hold hands, cross the street with your older “cousin’s” hand. Here. Here’s a dolla and twenty five cents

My eyes widen

We hold hands across the street.

There are kids jumping rope

I meet their song at “Ricki Lake on Channel 8.”

Front lawn, she’s already by the door

The line’s not too bad.

I bounce on the balls of my feet

I preferred Flamin Hots. Though, I rarely called them that. “Hot Flamins” came out of my mouth after a quick battle in my head over which was right, right before reading the bag that told me I had chosen wrong. Still, I would come in the next day asking for the same chips by a different name. There’s like a poem in there somewhere. And I’d tell 'em to add the cheese. Mmmm chips with cheese. Man. Couldn’t go wrong with that. You get a snack, an after snack (on your fingers, hopefully not your shirt), and maybe whoever is watching you will call it dinner.

No need for forks

We got natural forks

Y'all just don’t wanna be dirty

Roll up the bag to get the last bit of the cheese to the top

Put your fingers on the bottom of the bag and push up

No need for the fork

Lick your lips

Different area, years later, same thing

“Here, get me some hot chips with cheese and a juice. The little one.” My little legs run right beside my partner in crime’s legs.

We’ve waited years to be old enough to go down the street to the corner store to grab hot chips with cheese.

Some people (like my cousin Shawn and my aunt Barbara) like adding meat to their cheesy meal. “Walking taco” or whatever.

Nah. Not me.

I prefer hot chips with cheese. Sometimes I don’t have a quarter and gotta let them go au naturel.

I liked the idea of running to the store with a friend, or my favorite cousin (Jamari, hey). The feeling of being trusted to grab what everyone wanted while having enough for myself. I dunno how, but now I have the nerves of forgetting stuff while in the store when back in the day, I could get everyone’s order right. Easy. We’ll blame that on the aging too.

Now

I wonder if the snack lady across the street upped her prices

Inflation

Inflation Inflation

Ruining summertime snacks and every kid’s dreams

The corner store is run by someone else. No more chips with cheese. Heck, not much of anything.

Still. Hot Chips with Cheese please. I opt for vegan cheese usually. Sometimes, I don’t and just shrug it off. I'll think about this later. I lick the fingers off. Mmm. Hot chips with cheese. I miss running round the city, the neighborhood, the world, feeling all grown up. Now I’m grown up. I’ll blame it on the aging.