loving peanut butter and jam

Have you ever wondered where your little quirks come from? 

I was making myself toast tonight and i started thinking about my ongoing penchant for toast and really dug deep to discover its root. 

As a kid i would wake up at sunrise and hear my mother preparing her breakfast downstairs in the kitchen. We didnt spend much time together when i was in my school days but i just thought it was normal cuz i didnt know anything different. I remember we had this little game we used to play that she would quietly tiptoe into my room, scribble a quiz question (to improve my general aptitude) on a blackboard in my bedroom at about 6am every morning. She thought it would help me do better at school and achieve the highly coveted award of "teachers pet". Because she wanted that for me i wanted that too. I stressed about getting the answers to the questions right. I would anticipate the topics and had many sleepless nights when i got a question wrong.

I dont know why but i would always pretend to be asleep when she came into my room. I woke every morning to watch the sunrise (i was obsessed with watching the sun come up) I would wait till she left my room, skim over the quiz question and immediately rack my brain, write her back my carefully chosen response which she was to check when she got home from work late at night. Meanwhile she would be making toast downstairs and id hear her opening the cupboard to get the peanut butter and blackberry jam out to spread on it. The door would open and slam and i would hear her car engine start. It was at that point i would dash downstairs and sit alone in the empty kitchen, take in her leftover perfume (chanel 5), then begin about making the same thing for my breakfast.  I had a vision of her process and i would mimick it from the times i had seen her do it on weekends or days off. I loved this occasional memory of watching mum savor every bite of the peanut butter thickly spread and always thought she went a little heavy on the jam. It was one of the few memories i have of my mother enjoying the simple things. 

So to this day i still have this thing about toast. I love to make it. I love peanut butter and jam. I always buy blackberry jam just like my mother liked. And i eat really loudly savoring every bite just like i remember her doing so. I think it makes me feel really close to her. I run to it when i am stressed or feel lonely.

Isnt that funny how simple little quirks can remind us of our need for love?