There is something about pie that always makes me think of my Grandma Bodek. Especially, when I eat or make pumpkin pie. This afternoon Claire and I were in the kitchen making pies and my mind drifted to her. Grandma didn't make the prettiest pies, but they were always yummy. I remember helping her in her 50's pink and turquoise kitchen a lot. She watched me after school when I was young and looking back I admire her patience as she let me empty random ingredients into bowls and mix the concoctions with water. Growing up during the Great Depression, Grandma never let anything go to waste, and there I was wasting anything out of the cupboard that my little heart desired.I don't remember her using recipes when she baked, she always let me put a "spoon full of this and a little of that" in the bowl.Grandma never got to meet Claire or hold her like she did my boys. I know that regardless they won't remember her except through my stories. Today when I looked over and saw Claire dumping sugar and cinnamon into a measuring cup and stirring away I got to tell her about how I used to do that with my Grandma. It made me miss her. It also made me think of the things I remember the most about her. Not the presents she got me or the treats she let me pick out at the store. I remember the things she did with me and the independence she let me have. I remember her love.
As we head into the holiday season, I hope we can remember to just be with our kids. Let them feel our love. Try to stress less and do less, that's my inspiration for this week.
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