Hannah Hecht's Blog

I tear a small package, moist with melting ice, and hear the crisp tear of thin paper. I fold back the paper to reveal a frosty, vibrant orange popsicle. My excitement begins to mount, and a spring of memories rushes forward: sticky fingers, hot summer nights, games of tag with my little brother. I raise it to my mouth and take the first, most anticipated bite. My teeth exert pressure and the popsicle breaks, leaving an toothy imprint on the popsicle. At first, the treat is tasteless, as the initial cold paralyzes my tastebuds. But after a fraction of a second, warmth and feeling rushes back into them and my mouth is left with an acidic sweetness, reminiscent of breakfast at my grandparents: orange juice which was often accompanied by toast and sausage. I take bite after bite, savoring the flavor and frosty temperature. As the rounded wooden popsicle stick gets more and more visible; each mouthful begins to contain a slight woody taste, which, surprisingly, doesn’t take away from the experience. Instead, the woodiness reminds me of, as a child, chewing the popsicle stick to extract as much flavor as possible.