CDPunt(igam) Writes

There was one ice pop left. I knew it was in there and I wanted it. Francis asked me in her scratchy voice if there were any left. She’s had so many this week and I’ve had none. I lied and said no because they looked so good when she was eating them. After everyone went to bed, I snuck into the kitchen and pulled the one last ice pop from where I hid it in the freezer. I peeled back the paper, anticipating that delicious cool treat. Then I heard my mom in the other room. Francis was awake and not feeling good. Mom was going to give her some medicine and pick up more ice pops in the morning. I didn’t want to share. She’d had plenty of ice pops. I gave it a lick, but it didn’t taste sweet. It tasted like normal but it was sour on my tongue. Francis moaned as she took her medicine. I almost wish I had had my tonsils out. I took the ice pop into Francis’s room and gave it to her. She smiled and offered me a bite. It was delicious.

This story is based on Mark 8:27-38