If I Served You Pie …

by Stefani on 6-January-2008

… would you understand that it meant so much more?

Just a Sliver, Please

You know, by now, that we live in the home where my husband grew up. He was 5 when our foundation was laid.

Just a couple of years later, a little boy and his sisters moved in a few doors down, and the rest, as they say, is history.

My husband, and his new friend Will did all the things boys do. They rode bikes, played football in the yard, watched Gilligan’s Island. They went to school together, had sleepovers, even some shared family vacations. They were there for each other through the perils of middle school, first dates and first cars.

When Eric and I began dating, we spent quite a few nights going out to hear Will’s band play downtown. There were lots of barbecues together with he and his girlfriend. He was there when we married. He was there too, with his band, when we threw a bash to ring in the new millennium.


(a shot from that night)

Then, when we were still spanking new parents (our boys were 2 and 1) Will moved to Hawaii, and we hadn’t been able to see him since.

He’s in town for a short time though, and spent a couple of days with us this weekend.

It must have been strange for him, I think, to sit at our table, in the same room where he had eaten hundreds of dinners, as a kid, and to watch my husband play papa… “eat your salad, James.”… “mind your manners, Luke”… “yes, Ryder, you can have more ketchup.”

How did it feel for him, to watch my boys run down to play with their friends, who now live in the house where he grew up?

There were so many things I wish I could have said, but just… well, do people ever say those things for real, I mean outside of the movies?

Things like, “tell me what you’ve seen in all the years since I last saw you. Tell me, do you watch the sun rise over the ocean? Do you hear it still, from this far away?” or “It’s still us, underneath this mama and daddy veneer. Eric is still the kid you grew up with and I am still that broody, poetry-loving girl that you took to see the Black Crowes. Only now, we think about other things too, like the sugar content of breakfast cereal and how to pay for college. It’s still us. Is it still you?”

I didn’t know how to say that we missed you, brother, so I made pie, and bread. For you, I made overtures into vegetarian dinners. I hope you understood that it was the only way I knew how to say that I was glad to see you again, that it made me happy to watch you build Legos and play the piano and do magic tricks for my band of men, that you are a part of the fabric of their childhoods now too.

I hope that you find what you are looking for. I hope that you get lost in music, find someone to share lazy Sunday mornings with, and that when you are walking the beach, you think of us, eating what is now officially known as “Will’s Peanut Butter Pie” in the kitchen, with little men dancing to “World Music Night” on the radio.

I hope you know that we’re glad the world has you in it. I hope it won’t be so long before we see you again, friend.

Sarah Jackson January 6, 2008 at 9:14 pm

I’m sure he knows – that’s the power of the pie. What a precious gift to spend a day like that with a dear friend.

Chris Barton January 6, 2008 at 9:59 pm

This afternoon, I was merely delighted by the slices of pie sent down the street. Now, I feel downright honored to have gotten to share in them. Thank you again.

brit January 6, 2008 at 10:17 pm

a sister’s wish for her siblings…the same one is written on my heart.

molly January 7, 2008 at 2:15 am

That pie sure is sweet, in the no sugar cereal kind of way.

Ellie January 7, 2008 at 3:19 am

OOOOooooo, I wish I had all the ingredients to make that pie. Wow, yummo.
The day sounded lovely. And I’m sure your dear friend knows all, without it being vocalised :: that’s what true friends are about.

erin January 7, 2008 at 4:48 am

will is lucky to have such good friends.

Tracy January 7, 2008 at 5:38 am

Oh, Stefani, that made me all weepy. We had a friend from far away that we miss very much come to visit this weekend too. I’m so glad you had the chance to hang with your friend again.

Lina January 7, 2008 at 9:46 am

What a moving tribute.

Amber January 7, 2008 at 9:48 am

This is so great….I love the way you put things into words..and I hope he gets to read this.

austingirl2 January 7, 2008 at 11:21 am

You are such an amazing writer! I love reading all your stories and adventures. (Oh, and the artwork too!) My sister turned me on to your blog (she knows you from Girlstart) since you homeschool and thought I would get a few ideas, but I get so much more than that. Thank you for sharing.

prairie daze January 7, 2008 at 11:22 am

now i want to know will.

molly January 7, 2008 at 8:19 pm

i don’t know what it is about this post, but i really hits me.
and yes, i guess people do say these things for real. you just did.

Kris January 8, 2008 at 6:24 am

This is one of those moments in blog world where everything is authentic.. not that other entries aren’t, but that this is raw.
We have a friend like Will.. his name is Heath and I don’t think that he gets that we’re the same people.
Maybe I need to invite him over for dinner.

leslie January 8, 2008 at 3:06 pm

once again, you say it like it is. i am such a sap for you girl!!!

Leigh Ann January 9, 2008 at 5:39 am

I just found your blog and you made me CRY! I guess I’ll have to visit again, real soon.

I’ve got a sister in Hawaii and I really miss her.

Cheers! LA

estea January 9, 2008 at 8:06 am

uh oh, were the overtures not edible ? ? ?

::is worried::

that pie is calling my name.

Barbara January 9, 2008 at 11:19 am

That’s a powerful and moving piece of writing.

Lynn January 11, 2008 at 5:37 am

So very well put.
Our Will is in Belgium. We did get to take our kids to see him and his Danish wife last spring.

Marjorie January 14, 2008 at 9:17 am

So sweet. I too can relate – it seems as if most can relate to this post 🙂 Well stated.

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