My childhood was full of toast


What is your go to snack when you’re hungry but don’t feel like making anything fancy? Mine is toast. Growing up with 4 siblings and two working parents meant that we often had to make sure we could fend for ourselves. When we whined and complained that we were hungry and there was, “nothing to eat” my Mom would always say, “Make some toast!” And boy did we ever. My little sister Leah when she was not quite the height of the counter  would go around saying, “Will somebody make me some toast!? Will somebody PLEASE make me some toast!?” It was an emotion filled plea that would make anyone think she hadn’t eaten in days. My brother Daniel at a young age cleverly realized that if he opened a few drawers it would create a mini staircase for him to climb up and he could take care of his own toasting. I find lately that I’ve started eating toast much like my Mom did. She would take a bite and curl back her lips a little to avoid getting whatever butter or jam that was spread on the toast from getting on her face. It use to annoy me to no end but now I find myself doing the same thing. I guess when you graduate to adulthood you’re not okay with wiping your face on your sleeve. Apparently, my Mom grew up with toast as her go to snack as well. My Grandma was a little sickly in my Mom’s high school years and so lots of homemade food wasn’t necessarily on hand. She learned, as we did too, that a warm, crunchy piece of toasted bread slathers in melted butter and perhaps some delicious preserves brings a quick feeling of  happiness to the mind and stomach. One hot day in the summer when I was 8 or 9 I was at my friend Kami’s house and we had gotten some bread and were eating it outside. It was so hot that the sun started toasting our bread. Kami keep getting mad that the bread wasn’t as fluffy as it was when we first brought it outside. I realized at this moment that she didn’t like toast. What!? How could she not like toast? Toast was a go to food whenever hunger was rearing its ugly head around the corner and yet here she was shunning this food as if it was now garbage. However, her family ate plenty of tuna fish sandwiches which I thought was utterly disgusting and would never partake in.  It went to show that toast was ingrained in me and is as much a part of my makeup as my habit of putting vaseline on my lips every night (which is another story entirely). There are just certain things we grow up with that never leave us. Toast, thank you for always being there for me. I still greet you every morning and many afternoons with a smile and will for years to come. The countless times you’ve staved off hunger means the world to me. Now that I have a child of my own she can carry the metaphorical torch so as to keep the tradition alive. And for those who haven’t fully experienced a good piece of toast, what are you waiting for? Jump in. The water is fine.

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