Oh how I longed for a tall crisp glass of milk today. As I tucked my Special K into the cabinet and slid the milk into the fridge, my touch lingered as memories of an old friend swept through my mind and dissipated. Glasses of comforting milk pepper my childhood experience as one of the few things that never dissapointed.
When returning from a tour of Europe at the age of 16, my mother purchased a gallon of milk each day for a week because I just couldn't get enough of it after stepping off the plane. In between gulps, I almost forgot about the searing blow that came after first landing in France:
"Can I have a glass of milk?"
"Milk? Goats milk. You are American, so you probably don't drink this."
"You mean milk from a GOAT? There's no. cows here?"
"Only goats milk."
::blank stare:: "No thank you."
Well, with age comes wisdom and decreased tolerance for the stuff we stuff into our young faces. For me, a few more years rolled in with a bag full of lactose intolerance. One glass of milk at night can mean an ugly trip to a dark place at about 3am.
But today. This day. This February 2, 2010... I just couldn't resist the call of the milk. It was like the call of the wild. Raw. And loud. And primal. And begging for a side of cookies.
So I had a glass. A tall glass.
And then I had another.
I resumed work and all felt right in the world.
Until that rumble hit.
My mind races: "Oh no. This isn't supposed to happen until 3am. It sounds like a 5th grade marching band in my belly. And they're all farting. And clanking their instruments. And belching. And..."
So I rush to the corporate facilities, launching wolf-bait rockets, wondering if somebody will hear... or wonder if I went home... or walk by and wonder why I ate the precious 5th graders with their marching aspirations.
I give myself the giggles, magnifying fears that somebody outside the door will call a mental-help facility to come pick-up the "suddenly crazy co-worker laughing like a loon in the bathroom."I rise from the throne, put a gallon of Febreze Air Effects® into the air, and realize the relationship with milk is OVAH. Seriously. Never again.
::blank stare::
What? You thought this was about me and His Side? I'll talk about that next time.
4 comments:
Girl, you know that I like your style..! (he says regrettably, after downing his quart of milk!!)
p.s. - I actually can drink milk and handle dairy stuff... but the sybolism was too accurate to let that stop me from using it!
OMG! LMFAO! I was seriously CTFU! I was sipping a nice, hot cup of Tetley's British Blend tea, which almost became the new desktop pic when it spewed from my mouth during my hysterical laughter. I know you said TMI, but you should have put a better disclaimer than that up. Sheesh!
**SMDH and stil LMFAO**
I loved this story. I loved that it wasn't about His Side, but it was still about letting go of a relationship!
You are right some relationships will never work out! However have you tried lactaid? I hear for some folks, those little pills make a world of difference. Sometimes a little help to ease our troubles is what's needed.
@Mark: And you know I love your style, brutha!
@LoveBabz: From my research on health, most folks can't drink in America because all the processing kills the natural enzymes that aid with digestion. We should drink less-processed milk and add goat milk to the agenda. Go figure. hehe
Also, there are so many parallels between our romantic relationships, our friendships, and our relationships with other stuff (e.g. food). I have even heard that theory that we relate to God the way we relate to/regard our natural fathers. I would like to continue to examine those parallels here, because I have lived it!
@Negril: More than anybody else here, ya know my azz is cray-zee! I had a booty call with the milk again the next day... you know... hit it and quit it fast. That went fine. roflmao.
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