As I was at the grocery store today looking around, buying a few groceries and getting things we needed, I passed by the pecan pies. Instinctively I could smell them and remembered how my sister Linda loved them. When I was younger, before I married, we would visit as often as we could. Her husband was a military man, so he was stationed in many places that I was able to drive or catch a bus to. I don’t know why it was a thing of ours, but we always had to have pecan pie. One of the first stops we would make was the commissary. So, through the years, it has become a connection with us, a tradition I suppose, mostly at holidays now. Sometimes it is the smallest of things we remember that causes us to remember a joyful time. When was the last time you sat and thought of the past and found something there that took you from the present? There are many shiny pennies far away, in a distance called the past. We can see and smell them, but we can no longer pick them up. Don’t be the one not putting those pennies in the pocket of your heart. Someday, that pocket may just get full and a penny might fall out. I love when that happens. The pecan pie is representing the bond that my sister and I have, a representation of the past that adhered to some moment that was endearing.
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