A Childhood Love of Pies

A response to Shika's English 12 AP topic 'Write about the place you grew up, tell about aspects which made you feel especially at home and a time you felt like an outsider.' combined with a conversation with Kristina about baking a pie for Mother's Day.


When I was little, I liked pies. I don't mean I just enjoyed eating them; pies just made me happy. Often I would sit with a pie outside in the sun, watching the clouds, and taking in the scent of strawberry and rhubarb. Once the sun went down, I would go back inside with my pie, and eat a piece.

I have told other people about my relationship with pies, and they have often commented how it was odd that I would eat my friend. But I never found thi strange, somehow. Pies weren't just something to eat, but they also weren't animated creatures. They each had their own ambience about them, like how pink makes you happy and grey bestows an impression of confidence and smarts, but I wouldn't go so far as to say that pies have personalities.

In any case, all this business of pies is behind me now. My days of lugging around a lemon meringue or pumpkin friend are long past. Somehow pies and I just faded apart.

Now, I have a fondness for pickles.