I hide food in every room even though my children are never hungry

Dear Delyara, I grew up during years when food disappeared from shelves and adults whispered about ration cards. At sixty, with a full refrigerator and stable income, I still hide food. Biscuits behind towels, canned meat beneath the bed, flour inside suitcases, chocolate in coat pockets. I know where every item is and check the supplies during the night. My daughter discovered moldy bread in a wardrobe and confronted me. She said the house smells and the grandchildren are frightened of eating anything without checking dates. I promised to stop, then moved the remaining food into the garage. Last week, my grandson asked whether there would be enough cake for his birthday guests. He is seven. There were two cakes on the table. My fear has entered his imagination anyway. I do not believe famine is coming. That is what makes this difficult to explain. My mind lives in the present; my hands still prepare for the winter when my mother divided one potato among four children and said she had already eaten. Throwing food away feels like betraying her hunger. Keeping it until it rots is beginning to frighten the family she survived to create.