Apple pie -- Marash Girl's favorite, even when she was barely one year old!
But an even earlier memory than the one Marash Girl recorded yesterday is the memory of the pie on the windowsill. Does she remember the incident, or does she remember the retelling of the incident?
Well, she was one year old, so it's unlikely she remembers, but she swears she does, and here's how the story goes.
Jennie, Marash Girl's mom, was always the best apple pie baker in town. Of course, it helped that she had fresh apples from her back yard with which to make the pies! To get on with the story, though . .
Jennie was expecting company and in her inimitable fashion, baked a pie (and not a cake as the William Saroyan song goes -- you know the song? "If I knew you were coming I'd have baked a cake, baked a cake, baked a cake . . .") . . . and apple pie. It was too hot to eat, so she had set the apple pie on the windowsill to cool so it would be ready for when the company arrived. Yeah, ready when the company arrived? Baby Marash Girl, at one year old, took care of that hope . . . or, as it turned out, dashed that hope . . . literally!
As the story goes, baby Marash Girl had just learned to walk. How old would that make her? one? one and two months? Old enough, at any rate, to know a good thing when she saw it and so she toddled over to that window in the dining room on the second floor, overlooking the white birch trees at the side of the house, reached up to the pie sitting precariously on the window sill, and . . . you guessed it . . . . the pie landed on the floor with a crash, glass and pie crust and cooked apples all over the dining room floor, the rug and, yes, baby Marash Girl. Jennie didn't know whether to laugh or to cry as just at that moment the doorbell rang.
The guests had arrived.
