Yesterday, Sylvia was serving up slices; today, the helpings are not as pretty. Crumbled, in fact, but nonetheless fulfilling.
Erma: I can’t believe you are making pies from scratch, Sylvia. You have many talents, but as you and I know, baking is not among them.
Sylvia: You are assuming I am starting from scratch—a mistake on your part. I have all of the ingredients, but I know my limitations. Well, I’m beginning to anyway.
Erma: Ah, so you are cheating a little. I love that. What did you do? Store-bought crust? Canned fruit filling?
Sylvia: Neither of those. I started out making a whole pie. Rolled out the crust. Cored, peeled, and sliced up the apples and pears. Right on track to make a perfect pie, and then…
Erma: Then what? The phone rang? A neighbor dropped by? What happened?
Sylvia: I changed my mind. I decided that I didn’t want a slice or two of anything, so I let go of the idea of an entire pie. I made a whole cobbler instead.
Erma: You do realize that “whole” and “cobbler” don’t go together. You kind of took the easy way out, don’t you think?
Sylvia: Maybe, but I know that what I wanted today had nothing to do with nice and even. Big, heaping, crumbled scoops are what I needed today. I may not be a slice type of woman. Perhaps I need to accept that what I want is immeasurable and imperfect.
Erma: Syl, you are doing it again. You are overthinking. Some days a pie is simply a pie. Let it be a pie.
Sylvia: Not true, Erma. Pie is never simple. Why should I settle for a pie when a cobbler can be equally satisfying and a whole lot more fun to indulge in?! ****************
March 14th, 3/14, is “Pi” day. Pi is an irrational number, but it can only be used as an approximate value. Irrational: unable to be expressed as a fraction.
And there it is… Sylvia and Erma remind each other that they are not pieces of a puzzle in their lives or the lives of others; they are whole just as they are!
Nothing irrational about that.
There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not my nature.
~Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey
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