I wish I could go back

In the summer when I was a little girl growing up on Arch Street it was grand.  After dinner and after the dishes had all been washed and put away all the grown ups would go out to their respective porches.  If they didn't have a big porch they'd sit on the stoop (as it was called).  The men would be smoking their cigars or cigarettes (it was long before we knew they could kill us). The mothers or grandmothers would be in their house dresses. Some even had their hair already set in pin curls.  The kids would be playing hopscotch, jump rope or with their rubber balls or hula hoops.  Suddenly all at once each kid heard the bell or the music of the ice cream man.  In our neighborhood it was Mr. Softee. I don't think I have to this day tasted any better soft serve vanilla ice cream than what I got at Mr. Softee's truck.  All the kids would sit on the curb comparing notes on who got what and who would get something different the next night.  I didn't know then but it was quite a budget stretch for my parents back then to give me that nickle or dime for the ice cream man.  My mom and dad were great.  After we were done consuming our treats we would go back to playing with our sticky hands and faces.  Then it would get dark and the lightning bugs would come out.  We would run around and scream as each of us caught one. Usually the girls would let them go but most of the boys would squish them on the pavement to see the "lightning magic goo".  Oh I wish I could go back to that time for just a little bit.