Annabel loves me for my pie and nothing but pie matters. To either of us.
So the last pie was prepared in her oven while various members of her family came and went (and didn’t come or didn’t go), leaving luggage, plane reservations, hotel keycards, backgammon boards, chess pieces, Rochester garbage plates and live fish in their wake.
Paul, Nicole, Justin, Chelsea, Julia, David and Annabel ate the pie still steaming from the oven. And we savored every sweet-sour, juicy, hot cherry wrapped with buttery crust until bit by bit it diminished into just this memory.