Personal Narrative Essay

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What was your childhood made of? Can you taste it? Smell it? Because I can. The very essence of my childhood is distilled into a blue Skippy jar. My childhood is made of peanut butter. When I think back to my early years, I can clearly see myself perched on the edge of my mother’s wooden chair; sitting on my heels so that I am tall enough to see over the table. And in front of me on a plastic plate- peanut butter. Of course, there are other things on the plate: celery, apples, crackers; but they’re insignificant compared to the piece de resistance- the giant dollop of peanut spread. I wait for my mom to turn her back, and I dip my sticky toddler fingers into the goop in front of me- spreading it over and apple. I relish the first bite. I’ve

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