PASSIONATE RATIONS

Once upon a time…

A small child sat crying in the berth of an old-world train bound for somewhere deep in Germany. Neither the child nor the parents had slept much in the twenty-four hours since leaving the United States. The child was tired, hungry. The smells and sounds were odd and confusing.

Seeking to console the child, the parents ordered a glass of milk. With cookies, an ice-cold milk should easily provide comfort to the crabby, they thought. And the child quieted, waiting for the milk to arrive.

It came. Tall and frothy.

Reaching for the glass, a weary relief washed over the child. Home would not seem so far away in a place where milk and cookies could still be found.

Alas, the child’s smile quickly vanished into despair upon tasting the contents of the glass. For, surely, this was not milk. It was thick, warm, and…gamey. No cow could possibly have produced this imposter beverage. The child pushed the glass away, tears flowing yet again.

The parents, frustrated by the child’s singular obstinacy, goaded and coaxed. “Drink your milk,” they said. “See? It’s good,” the father said, taking a sip to show how easy it would be, how tasty. His nose wrinkled in disgust and he quickly set the glass down. The child’s reaction had not been born of exhaustion. This most certainly was not cow’s milk. Yak, perhaps? They did not require the child to finish.

The train whistled into a very long night….