April 23, 2022

Editor: Hannah Ostfield
Artist: Serena Shen

There is a certain comfort in traditions that are unlike anything else in life — relishing in what we know best facilitates an ability to find solace in times of uncertainty. Traditions are everywhere: whether it is as simple as the bowl of yogurt for breakfast each morning or celebrating a birthday with a candle-filled cake, traditions are a safety net for people to fall back on. For me, my favorite tradition was getting ice cream with my two best friends every Saturday night of our senior year of highschool. 

This particular tradition may come as a surprise considering that I am from New York, a place with four seasons and a bitterly cold winter. Yet, this is what made me love our tradition, though simple, even more. Even amongst the frigid temperatures, our ritual remained unequivocally the same.

The night always began with the expected (but necessary) confirmation text. As the sun began to set, one of the three of us would slyly hint at going to Coldstone — our classic and favorite spot. Even weeks into this routine, the text always put a smile on my face. Each of us knew we’d end up at Coldstone, it was merely a matter of who would be the one to initiate the night. 

Once the three of us were in the car, Coldstone would hear us from a mile away as we blasted and ear-splittingly screamed every lyric to each song we listened to. Ranging from the old classics of High School Musical to our newest favorites, Harry Styles and Taylor Swift, our voices would be practically raspy by the time we were parked. Even at stop lights, where neighboring drivers would watch and judge our off-pitch singing, we sang louder than the music itself.

Dressed in the baggiest of sweats, we rushed—typically to escape the cold—into Coldstone, where our orders always remained the same. I would get chocolate and vanilla ice cream with heath bar and oreo, my friend Grace would get coffee ice cream with oreos, and Cate always landed on a mix of chocolate and vanilla with no toppings. I cherished the familiarity of our orders, how I knew what we would walk out with before we even walked in. 

After getting our ice cream, we rushed back to the car and demolished every last familiar bite, eagerly talking about anything and everything going on in our lives. Ostensibly, this little ritual doesn’t seem to be anything special: merely friends getting together for ice cream. Yet, I think that this tradition saved me in more ways than one.  

Growing up as a competitive dancer, I was always urged to fuel my body with healthy foods. Although indulging in weekly Coldstone trips did not follow this rule, my weekly waffle cone not only brought me closer to my friends, but boosted my mental health and happiness. To me, getting ice cream with my friends once a week was more important than maintaining a strictly healthy diet. Ultimately, finding the value in traditions — even if it’s something simple — allows us to deepen our connections with those who are close to us as well as strengthen the values we hold dear. After all, as my friend Grace always says: “food goes to the stomach, but ice cream is for the soul.”