Transformation

The milk sits in the same old pot on the kitchen counter.
The same place, the same pot, everyday.
I boil the milk every morning, for my husband likes it and my son and I love curd.
I don't like the smell and taste of milk.
I haven't since my childhood. It makes me want to throw up.
And yet, I boil it everyday, because I have to if I want to make curd.
I wait for it to cool down, for that is when the curd will set well, the way I like it.
So I add a drop of old curd preserved to it and wait.
It is important how much I add of this and when.
Too little is not enough for the milk to change to curd.
If I add it when the milk is still hot, it curdles.
Too much will make the curd sour.
It takes time for it to set to the correct consistency and taste.
I have to know when to add the culture, to precipitate the change.
And yet, strangely, looking from outside, I don't quite know when exactly the transformation happens.
It happens in its own time, in its own way.
Just like life.
If only we give every thing the time it needs....
If only we can wait enough....