Albert’s hand trembled as he opened the refrigerator door and he let out a sigh of relief as he saw the light green of the pie filling with the soft white of the cream atop.
05.17.2021
Albert’s reassurance at the familiar sight of the pie reminds me of driving back towards my hometown as a kid, after trips to neighboring towns or places in the countryside. The town I grew up in sat next to an interstate and was notably located at mile marker 100. I remember feeling like time in the car stretched on forever, and I often practiced my subtraction skills to keep track of how far we had to go. As I first saw the signs for Exit 100, the water tower and the familiar clusters of restaurant signs, I knew that I was almost home.
