Apple Juice

by Jenny Morelli

Image credit: Liana S on Unsplash

When I get a whiff of apple juice, I’m instantly transported back to kindergarten and Miss Kaufman and the little snack wagon I got to pull down the hallway from cafeteria to classroom.

These moments were just me and no one else. It was the only time in school I felt important, felt necessary, felt useful, seen, and wanted.

I dragged out that journey for as long as I could, so that envious kids from other classes would see me roll by, so that my imagination could wander without the restraints of judgy, mean kids who quickly tagged me as the four-eyed loser; could wander into a fantastical realm where the wagon was a cape trailing behind me.

Because Miss Kaufman also had four eyes, she took me under her wing and made me feel special however she could, by giving me the newest crayons or the coveted first-in-line spot for our trek outside to recess, or choosing me more often than the others to transport the snacks.

She knew I needed a reprieve from the social gauntlet I had to endure.

Fifteen years later, I ran into Miss Kaufman in the gym where I worked, and when she said my name, her voice evoked apple juice and kindness and transported me back to kindergarten at Cambridge Park Elementary School again, and the beginning of a long road toward accepting myself. 

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Jenny Morelli

Jenny Morelli is a high school English teacher who lives in New Jersey with her husband and cat. She is often either inspired by her students or else they're triggering memories in her of when she was young and struggling with her self-confidence. She has been published in a number of literary magazines, including Spare Parts for a novel excerpt, Spillwords for several themed poems, and Bottlecap Press for her own chapbook This is Not a Drill.