Therapeutic musings mixed with humorous ramblings and sometimes spiritual notations of life as I know it in written form. A diary of my heart inspired by life.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Childhood Memories of Bare Feet, Giggles and Momma's Fried Pies
If you happen to be walking through our office during our break time, there is just no telling what snippets of conversation you may hear. Our conversations run the gamut from one extreme to the other. We've finally been able to convince our summer college student that has been helping out in the office, to join us for our breaks... She was making us look bad by working straight through. We've all become really fond of her as she is cute as a button. She's learned life lessons she never imagined this summer. I'm sure the images are seared in her brain for life, leaving mental images she will never be able to erase. LOL! Yesterday we were talking about food when someone mentioned fried pies. This is how young she is... She had never heard of fried pies. You know you can really block out the whole aging thing for a while until you come across someone too young to remember something like fried pies or who James Taylor is, then WHAM!!! It hits you in the face that those things are so far in the past kids don't even know them. Although if you ask me, your parenting style should be in question if your kids aren't intimately familiar with musical icons who could and still can actually carry a tune and play and instrument... IMO. (Rabbit Trail)Anyway this morning one of my co-workers materialized at may desk with two fried pies in hand. Awe!!!! How sweet is that? Apricot (my favorite) and Coconut (my second favorite). Oh, it was like falling back in time (as if I haven't done that before). I remember being a little girl. The women of the church met on
Thursdays to make fried pies. Women in their aprons, little kids running barefoot in Sister Stephenson's yard behind the church. We would play in the summer sun as the smell of fresh fried pies filled the air. Momma was always in charge of making the apricot filling, because that was my favorite. Oh, those were the good old days of ignorance and bliss, the good old days of childhood. I sat at my desk and moaned and groaned with yummy noises until every last bite of the apricot pie was gone. It's funny how just the smell or taste of something can bring back long forgotten memories.