Egg Salad sandwiches remind me of my first day of preschool. I think the first day of preschool was the first of many days where I would cry internally from stress but produce no actual tears. I very clearly remember crying that fateful morning but Eunice* insists that I didn’t so I guess I didn’t. I do remember that she packed me an egg salad sandwich and when lunch time came around I was excited to eat it because I love egg salad sandwiches. There was a problem though–the lunch bag had not been refrigerated, it was just sitting inside of a lukewarm cubby all day and although I agree with my teacher’s** decision to not let me eat the egg salad sandwich for lunch, I slowly began to resent her from that point on. Looking back, I don’t think I wanted to eat the sandwich just because I love egg salad sandwiches, I think I wanted to eat it because Eunice made it for me and I missed her. I’m away at college now and would consider myself as generally happy but everyday when I go to Starbucks I almost get an egg salad sandwich.
*Eunice is my mom
**I use the term “teacher” loosely as I’m not sure if you need any sort of teaching credentials to aid children in making macaroni art at a private baptist “school”; a term I also use loosely.