Yesterday, I really wanted to talk with my mom, to just sit down and talk about everything and nothing. I had a dream the night before that we had talked about knitting or the weather or the kids or something. I don't remember. When I woke in the morning, I still had the warm feeling of having talked with her. I decided that I needed to find a way to feel close to her during my awake time. This pie recipe was something she'd always been proud of creating. There is no crust recipe, just filling. The crust is only mentioned briefly, and it is to be assumed that it is to be bought, unwrapped, thawed, and used. Mine has a homemade crust, but the filling is what makes it homey. The act of working from the recipe in my mom's handwriting is why I baked it. I really miss her. I will take her a slice to eat tomorrow, and watching her enjoy what she created will have to be enough.
I am grateful for all the years of recipes and conversation, laughter and planning, wisdom and teaching, vacationing and gardening. I was really quite lucky to have landed her for a mother. I hope to pay it forward.
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