Saturday, August 29, 2009

Dear Mr.Pittman

My life. It would quite be the same if you were to tell me yours. Or to hear it from your neighboor. However, I will tell as you wish. I know you will learn something new. Life is all life but we all hold a different perspective.

Milk was too expensive for Mom then, living in our house on Alta Vista Street. It was a rare occassion to actually get real milk (as in real, I mean milk from a grocery store). This one time, I remember well. I, too small to sit comfortably at the table, sat my butt on the kitchen chair and hung off the table with my arms folded and my chin barely able to rest on top. Mom had set out three bowls and spoons with a box of cereal on the table. I was reading the back of the cereal box. My brothers were around the house somewhere, doing shit. How was I suppose to know what they were doing at that age. Mom was on her way to the nearby grocery store getting milk. Real milk. We were all - as in all, I mean my brothers - sick of drinking that home made condesed milk shit. Mom had been making that to save money. You know what I'm talking about, that powdery stuff that comes in a box. Milk in seconds! Just add water! Yes. Gross. If you like chalk with your cereal, you're good. I was young enough to eat it with my cereal, afterall, it was mostly all I had known besides my mom's breast milk. My brothers on the otherhand, had had their last straw. For dinner, they insisted real milk with the cereal. Insisted.

My feet dangled off the chair, far from the stained yellow linoleum. My stomach was growling in discomfort and hunger. The back of the cereal box was getting boring. My brothers would pass through the kitchen on occasion, without any word. I don't know where Dad was. I just waited. Nothing to do. I waited for the milk. My cereal bowl was as empty as my stomach. Thoughts traveled through my young brain. Time passed. Just waited.

Mom got home finally. She had a gallon of milk. Real milk. Finally. She yelled to my brothers to come get dinner and they took their time to get there - they had their own lives. Dustin made his bowl first. Put way too much cereal in the bowl. Added the milk. Smelt the milk. Tasted the milk. Threw a goddamn FIT. It was the condensed milk again - in disguise. Mom had just only filled an old milk container with her own home made version of milk. The kitchen when up in turmoil, with my brother shouting at my mom, my mom shouting back, Keith fought a bit, although, ultimately didn't give a shit. I ate my own bowl of cereal. Was full. Went on through my life as a kid.