Skip to main content

Yesterday's slice, discounted.

"You know," she continued. "That one thing that your family always has for Thanksgiving. That whenever you don't have it, the whole thing just feels wrong." She went back to eating her burrito bowl and I sat quietly for a moment.

"No." I said. "We don't have anything like that."

We always made the pumpkin pie together. It was just a tradition that started before I was aware of traditions. It was just an absolute of the holidays. It was never Thanksgiving without us getting together one evening and making a pumpkin pie. As a child, I used to love doing it. I felt so grown up. This was something my dad was doing. There were so many things to do, so many ways to help.

Cutting open the pumpkin. Pulling out all the innards. Separating the seeds for later. Cutting the pumpkin. Steaming it. Mashing it. Mixing it.

As I grew older, I learned to hate doing it. My time was too valuable to waste making a pumpkin pie. If it was something my dad wanted to do as a yearly routine, fine. I had no interest slaving over a pie. There were just so many things to do.

Cutting open the pumpkin. Pulling out all the innards. Separating the seeds for later. Cutting the pumpkin. Steaming it. Mashing it. Mixing it.

And then, as I grew even older, I learned to appreciate it. Not routine, tradition. It was comforting. Relaxing. Meditative, even. I could see why my dad enjoyed doing it so much. And, finally, why he wanted to do it together. There were so many things to do.

Cutting open the pumpkin. Pulling out all the innards. Separating the seeds for later. Cutting the pumpkin. Steaming it. Mashing it. Mixing it.

And then, one year, he wasn't there. And I stood, alone, in the kitchen.

Cutting open the pumpkin. Pulling out all the innards. Separating the seeds for later. Cutting the pumpkin. Steaming it. Mashing it. Mixing it.

It didn't come out the way it used to. It was too sweet. Something had gone wrong in my mix. It wasn't the same. Nobody said anything about it at dinner. They smiled and complimented me on making such a wonderful pie. I smiled politely back at them.

And the next year, when he came back, we didn't make pie.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Past the butterfly wall.

Spontaneous pneumothorax is a collection of air or gas in the space between the lungs and the chest that "collapses" the lung and prevents it from inflating completely.  Spontaneous means there is no traumatic injury to the chest or lung.   There are two types of spontaneous pneumothorax: primary and secondary. Primary spontaneous pneumothorax occurs in people without lung disease. It occurs most often in tall, thin, young people. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket but I can't answer it. We are in the middle of rehearsal. It is not an uncommon event. We continue to play. The strap of my saxophone cuts into my neck. The nylon is rough against my skin. I look out of place. Everyone else is dressed casually; shorts, shirts, shoes optional. There I stand, a button down shirt and slacks. I'm entitled to dress up a little. It's my birthday. My phone vibrates again. I always used to roll my eyes whenever I saw those scenes in movies. The phone call. The bad news....
2 comments
Read more

I'm a geologist, not an alcoholic.

I thought I had seen people drink before. Hell, I thought that I had drank before. But, clearly, I thought wrong on both of those counts. I cannot, for the life of me, think of a reason to justify all of the drinking that transpired down there last week. There was no rhyme or reason to it, it just was. Field work just makes a man thirsty. Taking this class was easily one of the best things I've ever done. We worked hard every day out in the field. Wake up at 7, leave the beach house by 8, hit the water by 9. My first three field days were in service on the R/V Acadiana , a 58 foot vessel that towed the CHIRP fish , the air gun, and the streamer to measure all the seismic data--looking at the subsurface of the seafloor we drove over. My second ship was the R/V Itasca using the multibeam , sidescan , and grab sampler --getting seafloor surface bathymetry. They were long, exhausting days and we returned to the docks around 6 or 7 every evening. And then, drinking. So much ...
1 comment
Read more

Yeah, that is not okay.

So stuff is okay, I guess. Things are alright. My friend and I are actually making some decent headway on our project. It's been such a long time since I've made a movie. Actually made a movie. Not just started it. I feel pretty good about where this is going, though. That's good. It's a good thing. I'm pretty excited about it, honestly. I think the scripts we've written so far are pretty funny. They are probably not as funny as I think. I tend to get unreasonably close to my work. That's okay, I guess. I think a lot of people tend to do that. It makes it hard to hear criticism. I have no problem with handing out the criticisms, though. That's always fun. Actually it is not all that fun. I know how they feel. That's okay. We're just having some casting issues, I guess. We're planning for a lot of side characters to come in for one-shots episodes, but we haven't quite managed to fill those out. Or develop the characters...
1 comment
Read more