Peanut butter memories
Today was a long day. Back-to-back meetings, tons of work…By dinner time, I was done. I had no energy left to cook. PB&J won the contest for the least amount of prep and clean-up.
While making our sandwiches, memories consumed me. Not that peanut butter was a common meal growing up. My mom loved to cook.
But it was my father’s go-to snack.
My dad wasn't a nice person. I won’t bore you with the details; suffice to say, he had a mean, violent streak. He was also a textbook narcissist. For him, it meant treating me like his servant. When I was a young teen, I was responsible for making his nighttime snack on demand.
When he wanted PB&J, I subtly exacted revenge. Too much peanut butter and too little jelly, which was more unbalanced over time. Eventually, it was so bad he told me to stop making him “choke sandwiches”.
I did. But my revenge had been sweeter than that grape jelly.
