I have been working at Ron’s Coffee Shoppe since 1987.

And by working, I mean assisting Ron and his staff pouring milk into the frother with keen precision.

Ron is very protective of me.
I was a gift from his daughter upon the opening of the coffee shop and I will always be his favourite milk jug.

I remember ’87 vividly as there was a one-year old boy named Rodney who went missing from a town nearby.
Back then, faces of missing children were displayed on milk cartons.

This time the cartons stood out to me as they displayed pictures of the baby’s gurgling face alongside a picture of a birth mark on the child’s lower chest that looked like the shape of Africa.
I’ll never forget it as it seemed so odd.

Today was like any other normal day.
Billy our barista arrived 10 minutes late for his shift, but everyone forgave him as he is always smiling and joking. He has one of those infectious laughs that can brighten up anyone’s day.

The morning rush at the drive-thru was chaotic as usual.
Billy must have been feeling the rush as he had sweat dripping from his forehead by the end of it.

He took a cloth to wipe his face just as an older man pulled up to collect his order.

“Seems you had a rough morning. “

“Nothing a smile and a good attitude can’t fix!”

The older man’s face softened a bit.
He turned his head to the side as if he wanted to hear Billy more clearly.

“You have a soothing voice. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“Must be all the coffee I get to drink for free!”

I noticed a smile forming on the older man’s face. It almost looked like he was struggling to complete the task.

Billy put his order on the counter.

“I have been working here for a while and haven’t seen you come around. Are you new to town?”

There was a startling silence.

I could see the man wanted to speak, but something was holding him back.

“Well I used to live just a few towns from here with my family back in the 80s. My wife recently passed, and I decided to come up and see if our old house is still standing. Sort of like a trip down memory lane.”

He turned his head & closed his eyes for a second.

Billy picked me up with his one hand and a milk carton in the other.

“Oh, I’m sorry for your loss sir. It’s great that you built up the courage to revisit your old memories. Do you have children still living around here?”

The man hesitated.

“I had a child once, but I’m not sure where he is. He could be dead for all I know”

Billy was taken aback by this answer and stumbled a little on his feet.
He was now trying to juggle the milk carton and me at the same time and it was a losing battle.

He eventually fell backward & landed with me safely on his chest, milk spilled all over the floor and his clothes.

“Are you alright son?”

The older man seemed to have swopped his melancholy for compassion.

Billy jumped up with a huge grin on his face.

“No use in crying over spilled milk!”

The man and Billy laughed so hard together that I thought I would crack by the sound of it.

“I’m sure my Rodney would have been like you.”

He took his order and as he drove off, he waved and smiled at us one last time.

When he was out of sight, I looked up at Billy still smiling from ear to ear.
He was sticky and wet, but he didn’t seem to care.

I looked down and through his drenched shirt saw a shape that looked like Africa.