Family came to visit
and it being June
with rhubarb abounding,
I baked a pie.
The same pie that my
mom's mother's mother's etc.
has been baking for
well...forever.
The insides might have changed
over the years.
But, the crust
is exactly the same
down to the three stalks of wheat
cut into the top.
It's a beautiful design,
before the butter melts it out of shape.
And somewhere,
tucked into my DNA
there is a story to go with it.
I just wish I knew what it was.
And since it is always good
to have something to wish for,
there is a certain sense of joy
in being part of some great
long-standing
never to be solved mystery.
