Easter Sunday in an (egg)shell:
“My family has a tradition of sharing gifts during Easter. My mom had gotten me nail polish, jelly beans, and a box of coconut oil (she knows I like to use it for my face and nails).
It was nighttime. I was lying in bed, sweaty and depressed, which seemed to happen often during those few months. I staggered over to my dresser where I grabbed the full bag of jelly beans and a handful of coconut oil packets.It only took me about 5 minutes to empty the bag. I began squeezing the oil out of the packets and eating it raw. It didn’t even taste like anything.
I fell asleep on the floor that night, full of shame and stomach pain.”
Fried bologna, please:
“After my father abandoned my mother, brother and me, our lives were turned upside down. When we lived with our parents, we had wonderful meals, and my mother could cook and bake, and so many memories are about her delicious skills in the kitchen. But, when our father left the three of us suddenly in Venice, California, we came to know foods we never had eaten before. I remember one terrible night, we could choose either fried or not fried bologna, with an egg, any way we wanted. That image is fixed in my mind forever. My mom made sure we knew that children around the world didn’t even have bologna, let alone eggs to eat and would go to bed hungry. I had my bologna fried, thank you.”