Gimme Some Pie

My family is not a cake family. The last time we had a birthday cake, my youngest sibling, David, must have still been in grade school. At one point around then, someone was asked what kind of cake they wanted for their birthday, and that someone said "blueberry pie."

We have been a pie family ever since.

This may be because my mother makes the best pies in the entire world. I know that many people might say this about their mothers, but they would be incorrect, because it is my mother who makes the best pies in the entire world.

Birthday pie got to seem normal over the years, to the point where this cake business during celebrations feels a bit weird. As far as my sense-memory is concerned, happy birthday means one candle in a pie dripping delicious juice.

I am 32 years old today, and what I would like is a piece of my mom’s peach pie.