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Thursday, November 4, 2010

Apple Pie

I want apple pie. I have been wanting it for weeks now. I want it so bad that last night I sat down in the middle of my living room floor and cried like a baby.

That makes no sense, right? It's absolutely ridiculous. I know.

But I don't want just any apple pie. I want Grandma's. I watched her make it hundreds of times. I know exactly what she put in that crazy awesome homemade crust--apples, butter, more sugar than is good for anyone, and allspice. No cinnamon. Allspice. But even if I could, by some miracle of God get the crust right, I always mess up the ratios on everything else. It never turns out right. Not even close. My hands are bigger than hers, so my "handfuls" of sugar don't work. And what exactly is a "pinch" or "until it looks right"?

Last night I sat on my floor and cried because I realized I'll never taste her pie again. Imitations, maybe. Recipes that come close, possibly. But not hers. And it suddenly, out of the blue, just seemed so undeniably unfair.

I tend not to wallow in circumstances I can't control. If I did, I would have been caught up in the mire long, long ago and would still be there. I firmly believe life is what you make of it, and the bad stuff we go through makes us better if we let it. But last night... last night I wallowed.

And since I'm confessing... here's another admission. I love Grey's Anatomy. The current stuff is ok, but the old stuff... I LOVE it. I love the dialogue. I love the relationships. I love how the characters would be considered 'weird' in the real world because they do and say what they feel without the slightest hint of worry about others' perceptions. (All they need is a little Jesus, and they would really rock.)

There was a moment on Grey's between Cristina and George moments after George's dad died. The words stuck with me and still ring so true. I don't want to be in this club, but I am. I don't want to have to wonder what Jeb would look like in her arms, but I do. I wish I could see things the way God sees them, but I can't. So until I can, I'm going to keep trying to make her pie the way she did. Maybe one day I'll get it right.


Princess Church said...

You know that clip made me bawl like 2 year old, don't you? I never loved anyone on this earth the way I loved my daddy, girl. I miss him so bad that it makes my guts hurt.

Kate (Southern-Belle-Simple) said...

i completely get what you're saying....after my great grandma died, we found a container (she always recycled the cottage cheese tubs) of her famous vegetable soup in the very back of the freezer. i could cry right now just thinking about how it was the absolute last her hands had made.

and i'm totally stealing your quote...because isn't that what we all need "a little jesus?" or in my case, a LOT! love Him and you!

christinaself said...

My granny and papa raised me too. She's that lady that taught me everything about baking, cooking and sewing and about being a good person (she called it raising us up right I called it being brought up old school). She was that lady for my older daughter too. Kelley would get off the bus in the evenings at her house and stay there until we got home. They would bake, play checkers, make sock dolls and just enjoy each other. She had a stroke mother's day weekend 2009. She hasn't been able to walk or cook or sew since. I am afraid every day that it's going to be her last. So even though she isn't gone yet, I know those feelings. The stroke has taken her from me. So you wallow whenever you feel like it because sometimes a broken heart just makes you feel like doing that.