Walk down memory lane

Some life events will always have a memory attached to them. For me, one of those -- strange as it may sound -- is getting french toast sticks from Burger King.

This morning -- as happens once in a while -- I got a craving for BK's french toast sticks on my way to work. And so I indulged.

When I was little, my mom and I had a morning ritual of eating breakfast at Burger King before our busy days started. I was four and attending pre-school in Knoxville at a tiny little school on the edge of the University of Tennessee's campus. Both of my parents were going back to school at that time, and my mother would take me to pre-school every day. But first, we'd make a stop at the Burger King on top of the hill.

We'd sit, morning after morning, stuffing our faces with the delectable sugar sticks and talking. I loved those conversations with my mommy. And then she would take my hand and walk me down the hill to school.

Every day seemed a little bit better because of my french toast sticks and my mother's love.