Milo Madness

One of my uncles failed to keep his promise of getting me a truckload of Milo, but I'm not upset at all.

Photo by Anastasia Eremina on Unsplash

I was crazy about Milo when I was four.

One night, though, we ran out of the chocolate malt powder. Already accustomed to having a hot cup of it before bedtime, I cried.

To comfort me, one of my uncles said we'd get Milo the next day.

“A truckload of it," he promised, assuring me we would never run out of it ever again.

Of course, the idea of having that much Milo thrilled me at the time, and before I knew it, I was already smiling.

Unfortunately, my uncle failed to do it. And he'll never get a chance to—he's dead.

To be honest, I didn’t even get upset when he didn’t keep his promise. Not long after he made that, I realized how unrealistic it simply was. A truckload of Milo? Who was he kidding? I was a smart kid, so I figured he just wanted to keep me from shedding more tears.

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I had a complicated childhood.

My parents separated when I was three. After learning about Papa's affair with a colleague, Mama decided to call it quits. She and I then moved to her parents' home, where my uncles and aunts were also staying.

But Mama had to leave me there eventually. She got a job elsewhere and could not take me with her. Not too long after her departure, however, she met someone new and got pregnant with his baby.

Before giving birth, she quit her job and moved to Sorsogon, where her new partner was from. I might be very young at the time, but I was aware of what was happening. I was a smart kid, after all. I knew she was going away to start a new family.

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That night I cried over Milo was not the only time my uncle tried to keep me from drowning in my own tears. I've already lost count of the instances in which he comforted me by making ridiculous promises. Sometimes he would even make silly jokes just to put a smile on my face.

He wasn't the only one. My aunts, my other uncle, and my grandparents were the ones who witnessed my worst meltdowns as a child. I’m sure each of them made an unrealistic promise some point just to soothe me—the weepiest child in the family.

It’s even clearer to me know that they just didn’t want to see me sad, in the same way that I know they did their best to give me the best childhood possible amid the circumstances, and despite the fact that I was not their responsibility to begin with. So, of course, I’ve already forgiven them for whatever unfulfilled promises they might still have.

They are the reason why, when I look back on my childhood now, I don’t just think of the sad times. I recall a lot of happy and funny moments, too, including that night I was promised a truckload Milo.

I guess that particular night also explains why I now tend to reach for our Milo jar when, unable to sleep, I crave something hot and comforting to drink.