The first pie I ever made for Thanksgiving never made it to the table. It didn’t even make it into my in-law’s house.
My ex was trying to carry the highchair, the diaper bag and the pie into the house. He might have even been carrying the baby. It was all a blur. The pie was gone before I even had a chance to take a picture of it.
I do remember seeing my beautiful pumpkin pie in pieces on the floor of the garage. The broken pie was just another innocent casualty of my failed marriage.
It might even be the reason that he is my ex-husband. We might still be together if he hadn’t been so careless with something I worked so hard to make. I would soon learn that he was careless with everything.