MY DAUGHTER KEPT GETTING FREE ICE CREAM FROM THE SAME TRUCK — THEN THE DRIVER HANDED HER A NOTE AND SAID, “MAKE SURE YOUR MOM READS THIS.”

I thought about how to answer.

“Because a long time ago,” I said, “he lost someone who loved strawberry ice cream. And for a long time he thought he’d never get her back.

And then he did.”

“Who was it?”

I pulled my daughter close.

“Me, baby,” I said. “It was me.”

The truck is gone now.

But there’s always strawberry shortcake in two freezers on our street — ours, and Grandpa Walter’s, four blocks away.

He found his way back to the window after all.