A Red Cap

      It's before eight on a Saturday morning, and I woke up over an hour ago. I walked into our messy kitchen and inwardly sighed. My sister has dishes today and tomorrow, and I'd complained on Monday because she'd left dishes overnight for me or Kay to do. I couldn't leave this for her; it wasn't fair. I stuck my purity ring in my pocket and got to work. But I hadn't had a chance to eat last night because of work, so I wanted breakfast, too--but we were out of milk. I wanted to get some before anyone else got up (not being quite as much of a morning person as I am [I love mornings, more than anytime of the day except sunset], I knew not having milk would make it worse), so I left the dishes and went to the grocery store nearby. Milk is getting expensive here ($4.00), so I looked for the cheapest Fat Free Skim Milk there was. And lo and behold, in the midst of blue and white, there was one milk with a red cap.
    All the others had blue; even the one with the red cap had the customary blue stickers. I picked up the one next to it and started to walk back the checkout; but inside I wondered why I hadn't picked up the one with the red cap. It stood out, didn't it? But why hadn't I? (To warn you, if anyone ever reads this--I'm a symbolic person, which means I can catch meaning in some things that others might miss, but it also means I often put far too much meaning in small things!) Because it stood out? I wondered how long it would be before that gallon of milk was sold; how many people would not pick it, subconsciously or consciously, because it was different than the uniform gallons around it? Now, being (perhaps) a future teacher, I linked it in my mind to a school yard; how different kids are often left out, just because they might have a red cap. It made no difference to how the milk stayed in the fridge, poured into a glass, or mixed with cereal; it made no difference to what was under the red cap, yet the very fact that it had a red cap made it set apart. And, because it had a red cap, it might be left till last...which (stretching rather far, I must admit), if it was a human, would make it different on the inside, under the red cap...and so I had a silly wish to go back and pick up that gallon of milk, just so it wouldn't be left till last. I didn't--by then I was halfway through the store, and who knew when people might get up at home? But I hope, next time--in fact, I'm resolved, next time, to take the milk with the red lid. And then take it home and drink it; I know, it makes no sense. But who really knows how silly little actions like this might influence the bigger ones I am given the chance to do in the long run?