When my mother was a young woman, she loved ice cream. And so, when my parents were first married, on payday, my father would take my mother to this fancy and expensive ice cream parlor in Seoul and they would eat ice cream for dinner. And at other times of the month, he would buy her ice cream bars. "They were different from scooped ice cream, but they were VERY good," my mother said, a little shy, a little embarassed, but beaming with the memory of that ice cream.
It is a strange thing to consider that once upon on a time the people who are now my parents were sustained by love and ice cream. And honeymooned in their apartment with a newly purchased collection of opera records, because there was no money to travel.
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