Seeing mom-and-pop shops close are always a little difficult to see, but this particular instance is downright heartbreaking for me. Take Five was my grandma’s favorite place to take her grandchildren.
As a child I spend two weeks out of every summer in Murray with my grandma. No brothers, no parents, just grandmother and granddaughter bonding time. These two weeks were my favorite time of the year. Twelve of those fourteen days were exactly the same: each morning my grandma and I would drive to Take Five for her morning Coke and a milkshake for me. I ordered vanilla every single time. My grandma, bless her heart, tried time and time again to talk me into ordering something more exciting than vanilla, but I always refused. I liked the comfortable feeling of the exact same taste day after day. Vanilla was my safety net.
Since her death I’ve learned that the reassuring flavor vanilla is still great, but sometimes you need to spice things up with another flavor. Last weekend my brother Ben and I went to Take Five for the last time. I ordered my milkshake and this time, just for my grandma, I ordered chocolate, and you know she was right. It was the best fucking milkshake I’ve ever tasted.