the right ingredients

3.14.11 (non-fiction except for the names)

It was almost 10:30 at night when we decided to walk to the corner store to buy milk. I had suggested we do it, then pulled back, protesting, “But it’s cold.” They didn’t seem to mind. Kate shrugged, her hood falling into her eyes, and Char said, “It’s alright”. So I said okay and we all put back on our shoes and headed out into the March night.
Char walked along the curb, triumphantly proclaiming, “I’m taller than you!”. I jumped onto the curb ahead of him with an “Aha!” Kate quickly followed suit. We were all battling to stay on the curb and stay first in line: three ducklings in a row. Then we stepped off and turned, crossing the neighborhood street and stepping onto the sidewalk, hemmed in by the street on one side and the back fences of the houses on the other side.
“It was dark, in the park, we found a thing and named him Clark,” Char whispered.
“Oi.” Kate rolled her eyes.
“I don’t know that we need to imagine things in the dark named Clark at this particular moment,” I said. “Besides, in the Dr. Seuss picture Clark lived in a giant fishbowl. He needs water. There’s no water around here.”
“What about over there?” Char pointed a dramatically wavering finger at a shadowed ditch.
“Haha,” Kate said, but she walked a little faster.
“Look up ahead, the sidewalk ends!” I cried. Of course I knew that the sidewalk ended: I had jogged that way plenty of times. But I wanted to amuse them, so I gasped and said, “What do we do now?”
“That’s a strange place for the sidewalk to just end,” noted Char.
“Look! There’s a beaten path,” I said, and we stepped off the sidewalk onto the path of dirt that had been worn hard by people doing just what we were doing: walking to the convenience store and back. Kate skipped ahead, reaching the pool of light cast by the next streetlight and by the lights around the convenience store.

I walked into the store, trailed by my two youngest siblings. Char is 13, Kate is 11. I am 25. I bought the milk and out we plunged once more into the night. We had already been to the grocery store earlier that day to buy eggs. I had purchased an egg waffle pan with Christmas money and was planning a grand breakfast the next morning. It would be the first time I would use the pan and I was excited. So were they. But when I got home and checked the ingredients list I discovered that milk was something I had forgotten I needed. I further discovered that the only milk in the house had gone sour. We could go get some the next morning. We could drive and get some either right then or the next day. Or …

“Can I take the milk?” Char asked, holding out his hand. I gave it to him gladly. The night was cold and the milk was quickly chilling my hand. We had gone but a few paces from the store when I said, “Guys, stop for a minute.” They obeyed, looking at me questioningly.
“Race you to the sidewalk,” I said, and took off without further warning. Char and Kate sprinted after me but my legs were longer and I had the advantage of foreknowledge. I won easily.
“Brat!” Kate called after me.
“Did you just call me a brat?” I asked, laughing.
“Here, can you take the milk again? It’s really cold,” Char said. He hadn’t brought a jacket. I took the milk but teased him by pressing it to his arms and back. He shied away from me, laughing. We walked amiably through the dark, joking. Kate said it was an adventure: walking to the store at night to buy milk. We rounded the corner and there was the house with all it’s light and warmth.

Up the driveway and inside. Put the milk in the fridge. Pour out the bad milk and put the carton in the recycling bin. Look over the recipe again. Decide when to get up the next morning. Get blankets for Char and Kate and try to make them comfortable on the couches, since they are spending the night with me. Tell them goodnight and go upstairs. Leave a hall light on for them. Put on my pajamas, read in bed for a while, and think about the two people downstairs who I’m bound to by blood and love. Turn off the light. Dream of egg waffles and nighttime adventures. Goodnight.