Peanut Butter and Jelly

Love can come in many forms.

One way that it came for me when I was a child was in the form of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

My parents bought a home at the end of a cul-de-sac in the spring of 1974. If one cut through the neighbor's yard they could be on the local school's playground within two minutes after stepping out my front door.

I had a stay at home Mom and that, combined with the short distance from school, meant I was able to go home for lunch. I did such every single day from the second through sixth grades. And every single day that I walked in the door there was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich there waiting for me. Every. Single. Day.

Mom made it perfectly, with just the right amount of Jif creamy peanut butter, just the right amount of Welch's grape jelly. She always cut it into two halves as well. Perfect sandwich. Perfect cut. Perfect taste. Perfect love.

Every time.

I would usually scarf down my sandwich and any sides as fast as I could so I could get to the television and watch 'The Bozo Show' or 'Underdog' or 'Tennessee Tuxedo' for a bit before heading back to school for the afternoon. Mom would engage me in conversation when I was at the table, but she'd never complain about my rush to eat quickly and to get to that t.v. time as soon as possible. She knew I thrived on routine. She knew my lunch routine consisted of a daily PB and J and cartoons. She knew she was there if and when I ever needed her. She knew how to create a household in which a child felt loved.

Oh yes, she knew.

Back in those days I lived in a world rich in love and comfort. At that time it was all I knew and I thought this was how life was for everyone. I learned over time though that not everyone was as fortunate, and at some point in the years that followed I realized just how blessed I have been. As time has continued to pass I've gained even more perspective, and have come to realize that everything I am today is because of the groundwork of love I received from Mom from day one. All of the incredible moments and blessings I've experienced have branched from that daily love that I received in the beginning years of life.

Mom is 70 years old now and I only get to see her a handful of times per year. I think the next time I'm back home visiting, I'm going to ask her if she would make me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I have a feeling she won't mind making it. I have a feeling it'll taste just the same as it did all those years ago. Maybe I'll even flip on the Cartoon Network after I'm done with my sandwich.

This time I won't rush through the meal though.

This time I'll fully engage Mom in conversation for as long as she likes.

This time I'll cherish the memories it's sure to trigger.

This time I'll know that love comes in many forms and that a homemade peanut butter and jelly sandwich is one symbol that will forever signify my mother's rich and unconditional love for me.