7.31.2011

Sunday Blues.


It is Sunday again. And for whatever reason, I am sad today.

I know I shouldn't be. The sun is shining gloriously, hailing the end of another July. Successful in so many ways, weatherwise. And otherwise. The summer was long in coming but really, there has been little to complain about since it's fashionably late arrival.


So perhaps it is the Sunday-ness that has me down. It has always been the ultimate day of dichotomy for me and probably so many others. Restful in one sense and full of anticipation and anxiety over the coming week in another. A day for family togetherness and also for solitude.

But also it is the missing that has me sad today.


I have rarely cried over my grandmother's death in the last nine months. I think because she went so peacefully, less than two months before her 90th birthday after battling so many health issues for so many years. I really can't think of any less sad of a way to go out of this world. But today it is upon me like a heavy blanket, tempering the brightness of the sun. I don't even try to push it away but just let myself feel. And bake.



My grandma was an amazing baker, always serving multiple desserts at holidays. We all had our favorites...apple crisp for my brother, strawberry pie for me. I wish I would have taken a minute or two all those summers and sick days I spent with her to learn the art of baking the perfect pie because now I'm on my own in this venture and all I can think about is her. As I form the dough with my hands, roll it out and place it carefully in the pie plate. The blueberries are perfect for my mood (and of course I use the darkest sugar in my kitchen instead of white).



I dance around the kitchen and sing along to Otis Redding (which is on repeat lately) as I slice the little hashes on top to let it vent. And then pop it in the oven.


Fifty minutes later, I pull it out piping hot. It is so far from perfect that it's almost comedic but the taste is there. The crust flaky, the blueberries warm and gooey and infusing perfectly with cold ice cream. It sounds so corny to say that I feel her presence but in some way I do. A connection of sorts because I know how proud she would be of me. And that alone lifts my mood.

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