When we were kids my mom used to spread some butter and jam on a piece of bread and fold it in half for us. Mostly when we'd wake up hungry at night, or for a snack after school. That's a sentence fragment, but you get the point.
I haven't had one of those in years, but I also haven't bought any groceries in weeks. It's a great "don't have a lot of food in the house" snack. Which, now that I think about it, is probably why we ate them back then too.
Its weird how something like a sandwich can make you remember exactly how soft your mothers hands are, the way she wore her hair when you were eight, the year you lived in your aunt's farm house and the sound of crickets outside your window at night, your grandmother's fridge full of Diet Coke, making mud pies under the porch steps during a rain shower, barefoot summers, and reading under the covers with a flashlight...
Thinking about those things, I was going to say that childhood is such a golden time of wonder, awe and excitement. That wouldn't you love to be a child again? But really that's not true. I miss those things, but there were just as many hard times back then. But people let go of the bad memories as soon as they can, and they cling forever to the beautiful ones. I think even at that age, you already know that the really good things are few and far between.