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All For a Pumpkin Pie
by Ramone Pulley of
Virginia Beach VA
The pleasantly strong
aroma of nutmeg, ginger, cinnamon, and allspice blinded my whole sense
of being and all things around me. "UUHMMM." Grandma was baking again.
How full of flavor was the blend of all the fall spices for pumpkin
pies. I could hardly concentrate. I could hear the occasional
glide of the racks as the pies were being stacked in and removed from
the huge black iron oven. As I cautiously tiptoed near the kitchen
entrance, I intently observed my Grandma bustling with a purpose
around the room from oven to table and then back again. She sang,
barely above a hush, but I could hear the melody without effort of
straining. It was a soft, smooth, mellow sound a base cello creates.
Intense pumpkin struck my nose, again! My eyes watered
and my mouth ached with desire to sample my most favorite dessert. But I
couldn’t allow my Grandma to see me. Sent to my room for disobedience, I didn’t
belong in the hallway. Was this then, deliberate torture—some cruel inhumanity
directed toward me? My heart raced with excitement and my knees weakened at the
fleeting though of not eating any pumpkin pie. Now, I didn’t even hear the low
hum of Grandma’s voice. My heart was thumping so loudly—Th-thump! Th-thump and
th-thump again. Could she hear it, too? I clutched my chest to quiet my noisy
heartbeat. My mouth tasted like it was filled with sand as I held my breath to
turn around; hoping that Grandma never detected me. Would I get to my room
unnoticed? I tipped with a nervous tremble over to the stairs. I hadn’t the same
bold courageous feeling as when I crept down to the kitchen. But I just couldn’t
imagine not being able to have any pumpkin pie for not staying in my
room.
"Mone." I thought I heard my Grandma say my name. I had only three more
steps to reach the upstairs hall.
"Mone." My Grandma did call me.
I
didn’t feel my foot hit the floor. My heart burst from my chest and I went
tumbling backward down the whole flight of stairs. Grabbing franticly, I only
caught air in my hands as I sailed through the air.
"Mone!" I now heard my
Grandma clearly yell my name.
I grappled again to reach the banister on my
way down, bumping my knee, a narrow escape from the head. A tremendously loud
crunching sound came just at the same time I landed on the bottom stair. The
banister railing split and came crashing down on the floor. There was nothing I
could do except lay there, staring into Grandma’s terrified face, now looking at
me upside down.
"Hi, Grandma." I tried to smile as I stared up into her
terrified face.
"Are you all right, sweetie? I thought you were supposed to
be in your room."
Grandma helped me up off the floor and hugged me close
to her warm body. Her clothes held the smell of the pumpkin spices she was
using.
Grandma smelled like pumpkin pie!
I didn’t notice right away that
my big toe on my right foot stung with pain. Cinnamon and allspice was clouding
my mind again.
"Ouch," I cried as I tried to stand.
Grandma helped me over
to the chair, close to the wonderful aromas blending together—so warm, so sweet,
so mouthwatering. I just knew I’d be in big trouble this time. I had to stay in
my room for not getting my homework in on time, and then, all this had to
happen. It wasn’t my fault that Grandma baked such delicious food.
"Your mom
will be home soon. How would you like to have a snack before she comes home and
sees the mess you’ve made?"
Could Grandma be fooling with me again? She
sometimes said things she didn’t really mean.
"Yes, ma’am, I’d like that." I
would get some of that great tasting, lip-smacking pie, with some whipped cream
on top—maybe even two slices. I watched as Grandma walked briskly into the
kitchen for my pie.
Concentration was difficult, with all the tempting aromas
whirling about me. The pain in my toe became no big deal to me, now. I was
getting some pie. All my fears and suffering were worth it.
I could hear
Grandma fixing the pie tins and pulling a saucer from the cabinet. Oh yes, the
sweet tasting cream from the refrigerator, and an icy cold glass of milk to wash
it down.
Grandma came out of the kitchen holding a napkin covered plate and a
glass of what looked like water. Well, water could be refreshing after a slice
of pumpkin pie. Grandma walked with noticeably small, slow steps. My
anticipation grew waiting for the fresh baked dessert. It seemed I had already
waited so long now. I straightened my back against the stairs and stretched my
legs out in front of me to keep my sore toe from being touched. It was harder
now to smell fresh pumpkin in front of me. I thought it would be strong now,
since my Grandma was bringing it closer to me. I strained to smell the deep
spicy odors that made my nose tingle. "Here you are, Mone", Grandma smiled and
put the plate at my side. She took the napkin off and I couldn’t believe my
eyes. Where was my pie? "Grandma, don’t you have any pie in the kitchen for my
snack?" I looked at the plate of crackers and creamed cheese that was before me.
"Sweetie, these pies are for the church dinner. Don’t you remember?" As my
bottom lip trembled, my eyes stung hot with tears. I couldn’t believe it. There
would be no warm taste of sweet spices, no cinnamon, no nutmeg. No pumpkin pie.
My toes ached again. All this for, well, nothing. As I thought about what Mom
might say and getting my toe patched up, I decided I would be getting all my
homework and chores done when I’m supposed to. I couldn’t imagine having this
happening again…all for a pumpkin pie.
About Ramone Pulley
Email Ramone Pulley or visit Ramone at
WARE'S HOME, a Christian Website
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