My mom was very sleepy, up early for our back to school. She made five bag lunches. At lunch I saw that my bologna sandwich was missing the bologna. My mom often shorted me. She knew I had gone in the kitchen late at night and ate the bologna meant for the next day’s lunch.
At an early age I was stealing from the pantry and fridge. My hunger was insatiable: Mom caught me in the kitchen and I quickly stuck a dripping peanut butter and jelly sandwich in my husky jeans pocket. The misshapen PB&J had lint on it, but I just picked it off and ate it.
Food satisfied my soul. I never felt bad about getting more than my share.