Whatever. I’m totally over it.

For Medicinal Purposes Only

Sometimes we reach a moment in which it becomes important to stop and take stock of our lives — where we have come from, where we are going. One might, then, not find it too difficult to imagine that a certain one-year anniversary of a certain shitstorm of a diagnosis might inspire said reverence and introspection. And one would be right, but only partially.

Because over the past year, if I have learned nothing else, I have learned about the holistic health benefits of pie. You can cry into a pie.
You can be simultaneously energized by the sugary interior and soothed by the crusty fat of a pie. You can remember your grandmother with a pie. You can remember that slumber party food fight with a pie. And if you make one big enough, you can actually hide in a pie.

Which, by the way, would look something like this:

Anyway. The one-year anniversary has come, and at first I responded like any normal, healthy, well-adjusted girl would: I picked a fight with Ben and honked angrily at other cars and got pissed about the mascara smeared on my cheeks. But when I got home from work…there it was, my mama’s rhubarb pie. The same pie she baked for me the first time she came with me to the doctor on Ohio. My, oh my. What a gal.


2 responses to “Whatever. I’m totally over it.

  1. Great new title!
    I’m so glad you’re positing again. Your words are your power! (Well. Your smile is pretty good too.)

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