I was recently told of a happy moment in my childhood that I was either too young to remember, or simply oblivious to at the time. I can't confirm it by myself, but I don't doubt the storyteller.
My dad had taken me to visit mom in the hospital, and I darted off for a detour into a stranger's room. A very nice lady, she didn't get angry, but instead sat and talked with me. Dad had been ready to grab me, but was assured that it was OK, and instead stood by and watched, somewhat in awe. She had a wonderful voice, but was dreadfully thin and frail. At some point, a nurse popped in and asked if she might like some ice cream. Dad says I piped up happily, "Yes, please!" and the kind lady in the hospital bed answered that "If this young lady wants ice cream, I suppose I will have some as well."
The nursing staff later mentioned, where dad could hear, that it was the first thing that nice lady had eaten in a week. Her name was Karen Carpenter.
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