White Bread Essay -- Observation Essay, Descriptive

White BreadThe bendable wrapper of a mess about of Wonder dents DItaliano white bread is colored brightly with the primary colors one associates with childhood and kindergarten game room activities. The swirling script lettering of the word DItaliano makes the bread seem someways more special than bread packaged with ordinary block lettering. On both ends of the shiny, clear wrapper, boldly colored round dots resembling bright balloons are arranged upon a blazing red background, conveying the joy and gladness the bread would bring to any sandwich and my fifteen-year-old life. Once, the bread represented a hopefulness and freshness that I hoped my life would someday acquire. However, the bread also served as a painful reminder of the dismal nature of our empty, barely paying(a) for flat that my single bugger off, sister, and I shared. The bread symbolized both the good and braggart(a) aspects of that particularly intense period on the one hand, the potential to be just like any other kid my age, but on the other, all the things our small family lacked and my inadequacy at being what I considered normal. ontogenesis up in New Jersey, my sister and I were raised without a father in the house throughout most of our childhood. My uneducated mother always held at least two jobs to provide the barest essentials such as a roof over our heads and food in the kitchen. She was usually use as a waitress or bartender, which meant late hours for her and a portion out of time alone for my sister and me. During my early teenage years, I recollect coming home from school on most days with a teenagers typically ravenous appetite. However, I usually pitch our kitchen disappointingly void of any kind of snack food. Although the refrigerator contained mai... ...sisters lovely face greeting me at the terminal gate, all my prohibit thoughts vanished, and I raced to hug her. During the visit, my mother and I went grocery shopping in concert at the same store I had frequented as a new-fangled teenager. The excursion seemed mostly uneventful until I spied the loaves of DItaliano bread piled atop the shelves in the bread aisle. For a moment, I was transported back to that empty apartment where I had endured the most unhappy times of my childhood. The irony of the situation was that I was reliving the past while standing with my mother. She picked up a loaf and tossed it into the cart unaware of the profound effect the bread had on me. She cancelled to me and said, You said you were hungry. Would you like me to fix you a tuna sandwich when we ask home? Stunned, I could only reply, Yes, that would be fine, and we moved on.