Several days ago, I had an idea that has been plaguing me since. I thought about how I always make hot chocolate with milk, even if it says you can make it with water. I considered how there must be some form of dried milk in there and wondered how it affected my hot chocolate when I made it with actual milk. Was it extra milky?
I had a flashback to the kitchen cabinet. I remembered seeing a bag of dry milk, inconspicuously sitting in a draw. Dry milk is basically a compressed version of milk; one simply needs to add water to create milk. I wondered what would happen if one put dry milk in actual milk instead of water. Double the protein? Extra nutrients and thickness without any extra fat? It seemed like an inevitable win-win. A perfect beverage without any consequences. Skin milk squared. I knew I had to try it.
Today, I decided, was the day.
I had the tablespoon measurement ready. The glass of milk poured. I had mentally mapped out the nearest supply of chocolate in case I gagged (although I doubted this would happen). But I somehow could not make myself do it. When I open up the bag of dry milk, I simply could not imagine drinking the stuff. No matter how much I tried to convince myself that it was organic and really no different from regular milk, I wanted nothing to do with the chalky white powder.
I guess I will never know if milk squared is just too good to be true or an actual epiphany in milk production. It made me realize that even if we have good ideas, if we never take the risk, we will never get anywhere. We just need to willingly face the possibility of failure to actually achieve something. For example, in Elizabeth Bishop’s “Sestina,” if the grandmother had had enough courage to get to know the child, their lives could have been better. I need to become willing to accept failure, because failures can help us grow just as much as, if not more than, successes.
