This is Journal #5 expanded, which was a personal narrative. This is an experience that actually happened to me through the eyes of me as a little girl.

Sam Reidy

Journal # 5

Milk Can Grow More Than Just Bones

Pa-paw leaned towards me and whispered, “I’ll drink the milk when they aren’t looking.” It was a family dinner like every other night. Everyone has finished eating and I am stuck at the table with a lukewarm glass of chocolate milk staring back at me. The sheer smell of milk makes me feel the need to blow chunks.

“Drink the damn milk, or you’ll sit at the God- damned table all night, just like every other! It’s ridiculous how you make such a big ordeal out of drinking milk. Then, you attempt to make your grandparents feel bad for you!” My stepdad bellowed from inside. The anger behind his words and in the tone of his voice was intimidating.

My soft-spoken, christ-following pa-paw and ma-maw cringed at his harsh words directed at such a little girl.

I had told my mom and stepdad countless times, “I know that milk is thick and stinky and gross, even if you put chocolate in it! I want juice!” They never listened. Mostly my stepdad was the one who forced me to stay that the table every night until I drank it. It wasn’t about disobedience, I really just felt sick from even smelling the milk. I didn’t want to disobey my parents, but I just couldn’t stand the taste. All I wanted, was to go play outside on such a nice night, not sit at the table being screamed at with this brown glass of gunk sitting mockingly in front of me.

My stepdad slammed open the screened in porch door, his face beet red. His anger always scared me. “Warren, you better not baby her by drinking that milk. You spoiled her rotten while her mom was single and working and look at this shit she pulls now!” Pa-paw hands were trembling with anger and nervousness. He never liked my new stepdad, but he believed in holding his tongue. I was worried for pa-paw, that kind of stress was bad on his high blood pressure. I knew my kind-hearted pa-paw didn’t deserve such treatment. All those years that he and ma-maw had helped raise me were out of the kindness of their heart. After my mom and biological dad divorced and I never saw him anymore, my ma-maw and pa-paw were always there. They had the best house, with the biggest swing out back, and of course the best waffles. But most importantly, no milk. My new daddy didn’t understand that, and I didn’t know why. How could he not see how amazing ma-maw and pa-paw were? I always felt so defensive for them.

I knew my pa-paw didn’t deserve such treatment. Pa-paw loved me most, I always knew that. He could do no wrong in my eyes, after all I was his and ma-maw’s “sugar lump.” I started to cry, but pa-paw leaned over kissing my hair and whispered, “Sweetie, if you don’t like milk, you know I do just fine.” He winked at me, tipped the glass back, and drank the whole thing in on big gulp. The tears stopped and I giggled at our inside joke.