After wrestling with himself to stay in bed, he finally made his way down to the refrigerator and opened the door. The pie was there, just as he had left it. Albert cut a small sliver of a piece this time and was thrilled all over again at the taste that filled his mouth.
05.12.2021
As Albert makes his way to the fridge to have one more experience of the pie before sleep, all I can say is I’ve been there. Brownies are what call me back to the kitchen time and time again. We start off the night with a fresh-baked pan of brownies. After dinner, each person in my family gets a standard-sized piece for dessert. I alternate each of my bites with a sip of milk until they are both gone. I make sure no crumbs are left on my plate and take my dishes to the sink. As bedtime routines begin, I find myself walking back to the kitchen, removing the lid to the brownie pan, and shaving another quarter-inch off of the existing cut so that it does not look as if the pan has been disturbed. I put the knife down, close the lid, and continue getting ready for bed. Amazingly, I tend to sneak in at least two more quarter-inch trimmings before we finish off the pan. I don’t know if my wife engages in this thievery, too, but it would be hard for me to imagine her being able to resist the urge.
Unable to fall asleep that night, Albert lay awake, thinking about the taste of his key lime pie.
05.11.2021
Christmas Eve night, the night before a big trip, and when I get a new piece of camping equipment that I am really excited to try out...these are all my own anticipatory moments that parallel what Albert is going through here. Pure excitement fills your mind and you can hardly stay in bed to rest for whatever you are looking forward to enjoying. For Albert, every one of those thoughts is interlaced with a vivid memory of the taste of the key lime pie. I really hope he’s able to get some sleep.
Filled with giddy excitement over the pie, Albert danced and frolicked all around the kitchen. After some time, he calmed and found that it had gotten quite late. He then packed the rest of the pie safely away in the refrigerator and got ready for bed.
05.10.2021
I am not much of a dancer.
My first memory of being at anything that resembled a dance was in junior high school. I remember standing at the doors of the gym and looking in at a space that looked nothing like the place I had PE classes or where I attended basketball practice. The overhead lighting was turned off and some softer source was being used to create an effect that I can’t bring myself to call romantic, because surely our middle school teachers wouldn’t have wanted to get caught encouraging anything of that nature—middle schoolers are already working through enough as it is. There were decorations about the place, and small, awkwardly postured crowds of thirteen and fourteen year-olds were scattered around the floor. I was very thankful that at that exact moment, I remembered that there would be a game of softball going on outside on the field during the dance. As I breathed in the fresh air and appreciated how the sun made most everything around me visible, and therefore known and comfortable, I made my way to the softball game.
Much later in life, I had another experience having to do with dancing. My wife and I had just gotten married, and we decided to take a round of Irish dancing classes that were being offered not far from where we lived. It was eight weeks long, and I quickly realized I was out of my league. My wife was a natural, whirling and stepping around the room with grace and speed. I, however, did not move with such steadiness through those lessons. When we were about six or seven weeks into the course, I had finally started to catch on to some of the simpler sequences and it was starting to be fun. At that point, the instructor announced that we were ready to move on to a more complex dance. She demonstrated and we walked through it several times at half speed to get a feel for the new dance. As the music began at its normal speed, I grit my teeth as we all started moving about the floor. I just hoped that I wouldn’t disrupt the collective rhythm or step on anyone as I tried to keep up. After a few disorienting minutes, the song ended and so did the dance. I had not, in fact, ruined anyone’s rhythm or stepped on any toes. I was about ready to count this as a success, when the instructor walked over to the wall behind me and looked down at a spot about six inches off of the floor. Without looking up at me, she said, “I think you put a hole in the wall just a moment ago.” I looked down and saw a heel-shaped hole in the drywall and knew it must have been me.
I am not much of a dancer.
As the first taste of Albert’s pie hit his tongue, he sank, overwhelmed, to the floor of the kitchen. It was delightful! In fact, this pie was the most delicious thing that he had ever tasted. Albert closed his eyes and carefully savored every morsel, until the first piece of pie was gone.
05.07.2021
It appears that Albert has done it. He has made good use of his new mint and the key lime pie is a masterpiece. As the exquisite taste of the pie and the fulfillment of all his efforts combine, Albert can do nothing but have a seat on the floor of his kitchen and enjoy the rush of the moment.
While most moments in life are not these high experiences of ecstasy, they can be wonderfully memorable and hold meaningful insight. The transitions from these high moments to more familiar and level experience can sometimes be difficult and are journeys in themselves. Intentional thankfulness for the experience always seems to help me with those transitions.
And finally the time was right and the pie was ready. Albert took it out of the oven and let it cool before adding the finishing touches to it. His mouth watered as he anticipated the first bite.
05.06.2021
The pie is coming out of the oven, and as I look at this illustration, the main thing that comes to my mind is potholders. I really appreciate a nice set of potholders. When it comes to our kitchen, I find myself wanting them to be fairly casual and yet somehow unique. The potholder is a part of many special moments: when a dish is removed from the oven, a lid is lifted from a pot that has been simmering, and the all-charming ritual of picking up the tea kettle to pour into the waiting cup. The potholder should not be the focus of those events, but if it can have a little bit of its own understated presence in those moments, the overall experience can be elevated.