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Milk… Always Milk

Daily writing prompt
What is your favorite drink?
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A few minutes ago, I posted about how I have been cutting down on my coffee intake. That’s still one of my go-to drinks in the morning, but it does not compare to how much I love drinking milk. I especially love whole milk (Vitamin D); I love how good it tastes.

The look inside of a fridge with two gallons of whole milk, and five half gallons of chocolate milk. A carton of eggs sitting on the shelf above the milk.
To show a time when my wife bought a lot of milk for me.

I don’t remember exactly when I started drinking milk all the time, but I was a child when it began. I have a cup of it with every meal, no matter what it was (at home, I don’t ask for milk at a TGI Fridays or another restaurant): pizza, burgers, pancakes, whatever it was, I would have milk with it. My family initially found it weird when I was young, but they got over it, and my choice of beverage with my meal hasn’t changed.

This story comes to mind when discussing the benefits of drinking milk with stronger bones. In 2007, I was sitting in the kitchen, having a cup of milk. Maybe I was eating something with it, I don’t remember, but the milk was there because my mom came into the kitchen and said, “You have really strong bones for how much milk you drink.” Well, the very next day, I fractured my ankle when going after the ball at my high school soccer (futbol) game. Whatever she said the night before jinxed me!

Tonight, when my wife gets home, and we order take-out, you know what I’ll be drinking!

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One response to “Milk… Always Milk”

  1. Kalyanasundaram Kalimuthu Avatar
    Kalyanasundaram Kalimuthu

    It’s funny how something as plain as milk can hold so many memories. It’s not just a drink—it’s like a soft blanket from childhood that somehow followed you into adult life, hiding in your fridge.

    Milk doesn’t ask questions. It doesn’t care if you’re eating pancakes or pizza, heartbroken or just lazy. It shows up. Cold, calm, and ready. Like a loyal friend who always says, “Don’t worry, I’m here.”

    That ankle story? Perfect proof that life has a dark sense of humor. You drink all the milk, build those strong bones, and boom—your leg folds like a cheap lawn chair. That’s life. Builds you up just to see if you can laugh while limping.

    But still, you go back to milk. Because it’s not about the bones—it’s about comfort. Like holding onto a childhood habit in a world that keeps changing. Some people have prayer. Some have therapy. Some of us? We just pour a glass of milk and feel like we can handle the chaos one sip at a time.

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About Me

I’m a full-time web developer adding writing to the list of hobbies in my everyday life. From writing in my journal and writing new blog posts here to writing poems and stories, looking to get my work out there and published to the world, you will find all the progress here on this site.