Life had simply carried us in different directions.
“How did you end up here?” I asked.
“Pure accident.”
Ben had returned to driving an ice cream truck after retiring from his regular job.
Then, one afternoon, Ellie came running up to his window.
He hadn’t recognized her.
“How did you figure out Ellie was my daughter?”
“At first, I didn’t.”
Over several visits, Ellie had casually mentioned her mother’s name, her love of strawberry ice cream, and eventually Brookside.
I looked at Ellie.
“You told me you didn’t give him my name.”
Her cheeks reddened.
“I forgot!”
Ben smiled.
“None of it meant much on its own. But when she mentioned Brookside, I started wondering.”
That night, he went home and searched through an old box.
Inside was the photograph my mother had given him more than 30 years earlier.
“So you brought it with you?”
“In case I ever saw you.”
