As these very letters, words, and sentences are being laid down I have just confirmed permission to share this story. The sheer elation on one side and extreme disappointment on the other side are absolutely fantastic. You will read this and identify with one, placing me permanently inside your head on Santa’s naughty or nice list for the remainder of my days.
It was a Thanksgiving in the early ‘80s. Although Texans can enjoy some balmy Thanksgiving days, this was not one of them. It was cold…bitter cold. We were all locked in at our grandparents, Max and Ruth’s house. We played as best as we could, and I’m talking about myself, my cousin, Wade, and my cousin, his sister, Julie. We finished our lunch before the “grown-ups” and went back to playing.
Finally they started moving around which meant one thing, dessert. I had been eyeing that pumkin pie. I heard the mixer start up indicating fresh whip cream being whipped. Ahhhhh yes. Only a few minutes more.
I don’t remember who brought my piece of pie to me, but it was quickly gone. It was amazing, delicious, perfection. I went back for another piece, but there was no more. Disappointing, but life would go on.
I walked back into the room we had been playing in, and suddenly Julie walks in with a piece of pumpkin pie covered perfectly in fresh whipped cream. Surely she was bringing this for me. “Let me see that,” I said.
She handed me the plate, and in less than three seconds all but the back crust of the pie was gone. I handed the plate back to her and said, “Thanks.” She didn’t take it very well.
I guess she forgot that she handed me her pie. I didn’t rip it out of her hands. Sure, I did eat the whole piece in one bite, but how can you blame me? I don’t regret my decision. The pie was delicious. I’ll see Julie again this Thanksgiving. I hope there is enough pie this year. It’s all I’m eating. Happy Thanksgiving!