I don’t even like pie

Lately it’s everything. The first sunny day it seems in months and I read Nora Ephron’s last book I Remember Nothing and Other Reflections in an hour in my most comfortable chair. It’s really Gerald’s chair but now, all of these things feel like our things. She talks so much about mortality and it’s haunting. She was by all rights still young, too young to be talking so much about death and not three years later she died. It’s incredibly sad, the last chapter in the book is a list of things she will miss and the very last item is pie. And so I cry because I think about pie and sharing pie and suddenly the years are gone and maybe my own mother will be gone someday too and I don’t even like pie.

We take little pills and make little pay cheques and try to be the best possible versions of ourselves and then one day all we leave are words behind.


3 Comments Add yours

  1. Kristan says:

    Gut me, why don’t you.

  2. Michael says:

    In your case, beautiful ones. You break my heart constantly, but for some reason it doesn’t hurt.

  3. Gah! And now I’m just going to say and write kind things to everyone all day today.

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