Breaking Bread

I remember picnics when my mother made us cheese sandwiches with bread and butter, wrapped them in waxed paper and we took them to the lake where we ate them when she and my siblings stopped fishing. I would set my book aside and eat with them. Those were some of the best sandwiches I ever ate.

A friend of mine,who was 94, only remembered one thing about being really little. It was her step mother making her and her brother baloney sandwiches they took to the playground up the street and ate.

I'm not sure why we remember these things, but I think maybe they are just pure examples of love and peace, celebrated by the breaking of bread with others.