Today I taught 2 of my daughters to make a my Grandmothers pumpkin pie as my dear cousin Tonda made it for their gathering, each not knowing what the other was up to. Funny how that happens, isn't it? My Grandmothers pumpkin pie is smelling so good as it bakes.
It seems like a silly thing to be so excited about. I guess to most folks it's just a pie. It's so much more to us. It's a piece of her, a piece of our childhood. Before life got crazy and so busy we seem to only see each other at funerals. It's a reminder. A reminder of what's important. Family.
Grandmother is gone now, as are so many we cherished but they live on, really they do. They live on in each of us. In our smiles, in our eyes and yes even in the pumpkin pies we make. Little pieces of love left to guide us on without them.
So this year, as I bite into that first piece of Grandma's pie, I will give thanks for her teaching me so much more than a great pie recipe. I will thank God for all the love she showered us all with. It's that love that makes a simple pie so delicious.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone and to my cousins who now share the secret recipe, enjoy a slice for me!
Much love, Sandy
