"Apple Pie"

     Like many children across America, (and many semi-seniors as well), I was awake at 4:30 this morning, although I forced myself to stay in bed until 5.  I still had a pie to bake for Christmas dinner, and was simply out of energy yesterday by the time all of my other prep was completed.  Fully energized even before I had indulged in my morning coffee, I had my pie in the oven by 6:00 A.M.  

     I make the same pie every Thanksgiving and Christmas.  It is my mother's recipe, and a traditional family favorite.  My mom came from a huge family.   There were eight sisters and one brother.  Of all of them, my mom made the best apple pie, ever. (Of course, some of my cousins may disagree...) Her recipe survives her, in that her daughters, granddaughters, daughters-in-law, and soon to be granddaughters-in-law to be, all use her recipe.  It would give her pleasure to know how revered her recipe has become.

     I remember one Christmas Eve in particular, when mom and I were making a pie.  Catastrophe struck as she dropped the steaming hot pie upside down onto the kitchen floor while removing it from the oven.  A look of bewildered disappointment crossed her face, as I rushed to clean up the mess, straining to avoid getting scalded from the steaming, hissing pile of crusty apple goo.  I don't know what possessed her to have a second bag of apples on hand, but she did.  In my youthful enthusiasm, I made light of the calamity, and promptly began peeling apples.  I didn't allow her to be overcome by her disappointment, and we put that second pie together in record time. ( I made sure to remove the second pie from the oven myself!)  I don't ever remove a pie from the oven without thinking of her...

     My relationship with my mom was tenuous at best, but I cling to this fondest of memories of her, that of a night when we worked blissfully together making her delightfully delicious apple pie in anticipation of Christmas.  Rest in peace, mom.  You are gone from our midst, but never forgotten.