Pumpkin Pie and the Wrecking Ball of the Emptiness Machine
Pumpkin pie for me isn't just about the pie itself, it's about the memories. Every time I eat a piece I think of my grandmother who's not here anymore. Nobody's pumpkin pie is as delicious to me as my grandmother's. Not even my own, based off of her recipe, which is really just the Libby's pumpkin recipe with a little extra nutmeg and cinnamon mix.
I think of my sister who had pumpkin pie on her birthday before I did and I flat out stole it. She's not in the picture anymore either. I think of my aunt who boldly made pumpkin cream cheese bars one year at Thanksgiving and I'm a pumpkin purest so that was a risk. My aunt died when she was 43. I'm 42 this year.
I think about the time I brought someone I was dating to my family Thanksgiving. That was a first and as it turns out it would be the last, not only the last time I would bring somebody else to my family Thanksgiving, but it would be the last time I would be there too. I also had mono that year. Why anyone let me carve the turkey, who knows?
I think about the Thanksgivings away from home. Thanksgiving with friends in Washington, Thanksgiving with friends in North Carolina, Thanksgiving with coworkers in New York, and my first Thanksgiving after I got engaged. I also think about the Thanksgivings going from my dad's side of the family to my mom's side of the family and back on the same day. Yes, when I eat a slice of pumpkin pie, especially this time of year, it makes me think of all of that and more.
Having a disability has done a lot for my sense of gratitude. Pumpkin pie and my CP really don't have anything to do with each other. But, that flavor is enough to create moments that take me out of the pain and not worry what movement I have to make next. Pumpkin pie on the other hand, has a lot more connections to my wider life context. Thanksgiving in general has been a season of transition in my life, time and time again. I sit with the loss and grief every day. However, on Thanksgiving it usually hits a little deeper. Yet, I was recently reminded that I've lost a lot and it might hurt forever, but I haven't lost everything and I'm still here. For that, I am incredibly thankful.
If you haven't had pumpkin pie in the middle of summertime, you're missing out. In this picture from what is obviously my birthday, I know that my grandmother had to save the pumpkin pie mix from Thanksgiving season all the way until August, just so I would have it for my birthday. Thankfully it's in a can so that's relatively safe to do, but it's not like it is now when you can get pumpkin pie 365. She had to plan for that. And, I think that's one of the reasons, aside from all the memories, that I was willing to have a very heated workplace debate over dessert. Pumpkin pie will always be my favorite summer dessert, especially on my birthday, but most of my pumpkin pie memories happen around Thanksgiving because I remember those who are gone and I feel that every day.
If, like me, you kind of mentally skipped over this season because it's just hard, I see you, I hear you, and you're not alone. “Find your vision in the candle” (Matisyahu), on your slice of pumpkin pie. “Already pulling me in, already under my skin, and I know exactly how this ends. I let you cut me open, just to watch me bleed” (Linkin Park, “The Emptiness Machine”). Behind the silent expressions that I will likely have or that I had yesterday depending on when this post lands, I have been hollowed out by the pain behind the memories that come up with every bite of pumpkin pie.
“Don't you ever say that I just walked away, I will always want you” (Miley Cyrus, “Wrecking Ball”). When you eat your pumpkin pie and the wrecking ball of the emptiness machine smashes into your soul this Thanksgiving season, take a moment to breathe, find your feet on the ground, turn the music up if you need to, light a cigar, have some whiskey, whatever your cup of tea is, but don't squash those feelings because they show up now for a reason. You are still here.
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