Soybean Milk

Brown refrigerator.
    Wobbly table.
    Musty sunlight through a single window.
    Steady concentration and a sweaty brow.
    Cream colored liquid dripping slowly through a moistened piece of cloth.
Earlier that week, Mrs. Abbott called her mom, curious about how to make the uniquely sweet drink one of her students brought in each week. When Saturday finally came, she stood on the sofa next to the window, watching the sidewalk below for Mrs. Abbott’s familiar short, dirty blonde hair.  When she finally heard the doorbell, she ran out of her apartment yelling, “She’s here!  She’s here!”  A few slides down the banisters and she was ready to open the door for her first grade teacher.
    The next Monday at school, she looked for some signal, some sign of recognition of the hours they spent on Saturday morning making soybean milk together.  When lunchtime came and Mrs. Abbott opened her thermos, a uniquely sweet smell made its way to the girl, accompanied by a wink from Mrs. A.
 

Author's Note

I miss that brown refrigerator.