The Ice Cream We Never Ate
- Alice Ranker
- Jun 27
- 3 min read
"We should go get ice cream."
"Sure."
And then...we didn't.
No one stood up. No one grabbed the keys. We finished what we were watching, scrolled our phones a little longer, talked about other things, and eventually the evening slipped away.
"We'll just go tomorrow."
On the surface, it doesn't seem like a big deal. It's just ice cream.
But I started noticing something.
One person walked away feeling disappointed—not because they desperately wanted ice cream, but because they had been looking forward to sharing a simple moment together.
The other person often felt a little shame. They had wanted to go too. They weren't trying to disappoint anyone. Somewhere in their mind they had simply decided tomorrow would work just as well.
Neither person was wrong.
But they weren't experiencing the same thing.
One was mourning a missed moment.
The other thought they had simply postponed it.
I realized this pattern isn't really about ice cream.
It's about how often we postpone living.
We convince ourselves that today isn't the only opportunity.
"I'll call her."
"We should take that trip."
"Let's sit on the porch."
"I need to start exercising."
"We need a date night."
"I've always wanted to learn that."
We rarely decide not to do these things.
We simply decide...not today.
Tomorrow becomes our favorite place to store the things that matter.
Sometimes tomorrow arrives.
Sometimes it doesn't.
Even when it does, it isn't a replacement for today.
I found myself saying something that surprised me.
"Yeah...but we could have gone tonight and tomorrow."
That wasn't about eating ice cream two days in a row.
It was about recognizing that today had value all by itself.
This Tuesday only exists once.
This conversation only happens once.
This version of us only exists once.
I've noticed that when opportunities are small, we assume they're renewable.
We'll catch another sunset.
We'll play another game.
We'll visit another weekend.
We'll laugh another night.
Maybe.
But not this one.
Not this exact moment.
Not this version of ourselves.
The older I get, the more I realize that life isn't usually made up of huge, unforgettable events.
It's built from ordinary evenings.
It's built from spontaneous drives.
It's built from walks after dinner.
It's built from saying yes to simple invitations before we talk ourselves out of them.
I don't think most of us postpone these things because we don't care.
I think we're tired.
Comfortable.
Overwhelmed.
Or convinced we'll enjoy them more when we have more energy, more time, or a better mood.
The problem is that life keeps moving while we're waiting for the perfect moment to participate in it.
Maybe that's why some disappointments feel larger than they should.
It isn't because we missed the ice cream.
It's because we missed another chance to make a memory.
Another opportunity to connect.
Another ordinary day that could have quietly become extraordinary.
This isn't an argument for saying yes to everything.
Rest matters.
Boundaries matter.
Sometimes staying home is exactly what we need.
But when something good presents itself—a chance to connect, celebrate, laugh, explore, or simply enjoy being alive—I wonder what would happen if we stopped assuming tomorrow was guaranteed.
What if we simply asked ourselves...
"Why not today?"
Tomorrow may bring new opportunities.
It will never bring back today's.
And some opportunities aren't really opportunities at all—they're moments. Once they've passed, they're memories we never got to make.
So I hope we eat more ice cream.
I hope we take more walks.
I hope we linger on the porch a little longer.
I hope we stop waiting for life to become less busy before we start living it.
Because one day we may realize...
It was never about the ice cream.
It was about the life we almost postponed.
Much love & choose the ice cream today,
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