Cherry Valentine’s Day

My grandmother loved cherry ice cream – or at least I think she did. I think that because the only time I ever remember having it was when I was visiting her and my grandfather. The more I think about it, the more I think maybe it was one of those deals where she absolutely detested cherry ice cream but he loved it and so she spent the next fifty years of her life learning to love it, pretending to love it because she was in love and that’s what people in love do. I think I like cherry ice cream, I just had a bowl and I thoroughly enjoyed it, but then I wonder if maybe I love cherry ice cream because I love my grandmother and it reminds me of her. In fact, it’s too crazy to be coincidence that I just caught a glimpse of a music video and I saw an image that reminded me of my grandfather and then like a day later I’m craving cherry ice cream – I don’t even eat that much ice cream. I don’t know, it doesn’t all completely make sense to me, I mean one minute I’m watching a music video, the next minute I’m tappin my finger like my grandfather used to, and then I’m in the grocery store rabidly looking for cherry ice cream. I don’t think I spent one second since Christmas thinking about my grandparents and now everything I do reminds me of them. It kinda makes me wonder about the afterlife, about just what exactly is their role up there standing beside God? Are they gradually stepping in to play some part in a decision I’ll be making soon? Are they just trying to make sure I don’t forget about them? Did they just want some cherry vanilla ice cream on Valentine’s Day because it’s red and all they’ve got up in heaven is strawberry? I just don’t know.