The children and even grandchildren bring their own signature dishes to family gatherings, but her mother remains the pie maker, her piecrusts legendary, the recipe and technique an unwritten mystery. To learn it, she would have to apprentice under her mother, observe and practice. That takes time. She would become initiated later.
At the last gathering even the uninitiated recognized that the slits in the top crust, usually cut so artistically, had been forgotten, the pies uncharacteristically soggy.
At this gathering they mine their pie with worried forks, something less obvious obviously forgotten.
She would never know the mystery.
Written for Carrot Ranch July 20, 2017 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that features a pie. You can make it any kind of pie, focus on filling or crust, or tell us about the pie-maker. How does pie set a tone in a story? Does it warm the hearth or bring disappointment?
Time we think we don’t have is often the most valued when it is lost forever.
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Hello my anonymous friend. Just sitting on my porch getting my weekly response in. Total fiction as always. Total fiction.Totally.
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I, also, am sitting on my deck. Enjoying a day so clear I can see miles off. If I wave, maybe, you’ll see me.
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But for the mountains. Get off yer butt and go make a pie. I am going across the road and then down the road if I don’t find my missing paddle. How does one lose a paddle?
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Sometime later, the family (in her generation) will not remember the taste of the original. Online recipes and frozen pie crusts are part of the contemporary lifestyle.
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This fictional family is not yet ready to face that concession.
I am. Who needs to cook if you have a phone.
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Nicely written tale of loss. A good reminder never put off today because tomorrow might be too late.
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My mind goes to dwelling on the weirdness of time past and traditions in families. When I struggled to make pie crusts my mother gave me my Great Aunt Ramona’s recipe, and yet neither of us had ever tasted it when she lived! Hope among the things lost fictionally, a paddle showed up. I almost lost my rocking stick (some call it a walking stick, but I don’t walk, I rock).
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Paddles are replaceable, and as it turns out, for the better, and what a fine ride to get it on my steel horse.
Long live Aunt Ramona, ay?
With all you have on your plate, pie and all, thanks for coming by my humble spot.
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I find your humble spot has amazing pie!
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And yes, Charli Mills, you do rock. Glad you’re just rollin in the waves now and not on the road. Rock on, friend.
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Cold spell hit and grounded my rocking flights among waves.
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Pingback: All About the Pie « Carrot Ranch Communications
Sniff
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Thanks for coming by, I appreciate it.
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But of course, and thanks for sharing great flash!
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