Monthly Archives: November 2016

… and Pecan Pie

Pecan pie was always a part of the holidays when I grew up. It was on the dessert table in a place of honor. The taste, the smell … ingrained in my mind as a part of my childhood.
There was a restaurant across the street from Presbyterian Hospital: Anderson’s. They were famous for their pecan pie and, yes, they were indeed that good.

My daughters Carlaysle and Rose were born at Presby on rainy, cold, icy days. After they arrived … and cleaned … and weighed & measured … taken and glassed for the parade … fed for the first time and tucked in to bond with their mother …
I walked across the street alone and had pecan pie. I savored my Anderson’s pie and gave thanks to the universe for the beauty of everything.

My girls are grown, and Anderson’s has long since closed.

I’ll be alone for the holidays again this year, and I’m going to make a pie for myself. My world is a little colder than it used to be, but I hope to warm my own soul. I’m still thankful.

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In the Wings

All alone on the stage tonight

I’m not afraid, or so I’m told.
I know these lines, I’ve spoken them scores of times.
I always, always hit my mark.
I head the bill in my own humble show
I come in proud and clean
I know I’ll leave empty and scarred
I give it all, you know?
I don’t leave any in the reserve because that’s not the me I know. Both feet. Full immersion. 
The scars won’t be my own, but I’ll own them for a time. 
Proud to carry the hurt, the words, the ugly

The boy on the playground, delivering soliloquies to the swings, sonnets to the slide.
Picking up his trash and tucking it into his (lunchbox), heading home through the soft rain and the hard, pointed jeers.
… and the green.
Despite the taunts, all that haunts
Are the smell of the good earth
And the color of the tree filtered sunset.

It’s a spotlight, and he’s almost home.

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