When Mutti filled a big mug with warm goat’s milk and honey and handed it to her, Christine pulled the sleeves of the blue sweater over her wrists and took the steaming cup with her left hand, keeping her tattooed arm in her lap.
Closing her eyes, she inhaled the warm vapours, surprised that she could smell the goat’s diet of sweet grass, and the flower pollen used by the honey bees. She took a long sip and held it in her mouth before swallowing, every sweet, buttery nuance of milk and honey-combed sugar like silk on her tongue. The creamy liquid soothed her raw irritated throat.
“Now that the war is over,” Mutti said, “when your father comes home, I’ll use the last can of plums for a Pflaumenkucken to celebrate your safe return.”
from The Plum Tree by Ellen Marie Wiseman