The Postcard - (Peanut Butter and Jelly)

I want to send one.

I've been thinking a lot, about what it would say, about what it would mean, and about what my most important secret, or memory, or darkest moment is.

It surprised me when I realized it. Normally my family laughs about this incident, but it's not funny. That's what Echols' do though - we're like the Cohen's, I guess. If it sucks, you laugh. If it makes you want to cry, laugh even harder.

My father calls me the glue that holds our family together, but I've always thought that was bullshit on account of his blinding adoration for his firstborn daughter. However, this particular memory jolted an awareness in me that maybe he's right, at least during times of crisis.

I had to practically slap my own mother to keep her focused, while driving in rush hour on 680-80 and I barely knew how to drive. Aren't your parents supposed to calm you down when there's a family emergency? Well, I mean, not my parents, but YOUR parents did, didn't they?

Or did they? Maybe I'm wrong about this perception of parents and I can actually stop raising my kids as soon as they can make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and mac-n-cheese.

Speaking of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, here's a funny tidbit about my sister. When Pappy used to yell at us, sometimes it lasted for a _really_ long time. And either you got bored, or you cried. And we hated to cry in front of him. So, Ughty, rather than cry in front of him, would say "PeanutButterandJellyPeanutButterandJelly" over and over in her head to stay focused and remain unaffected by his momentary tyrade.

I think she did that because my mom force fed us peanut butter and jelly sandwiches every day for like 12 years. Laura Scudder's peanut butter, all natural, and Knott's Berry Farm Boysenberry Jam.

As it turns out, we were poor.

I need to rename this entry peanut butter and jelly, I think.