Bye Bye Miss American Pie

by Donna Poole

I’m glad I never had a job where I had to estimate anything; I’d have been fired.

I can’t estimate distance; I can’t pass a car if I even see another one coming because I’m not sure I can do it safely. I don’t estimate time well either. Things take longer than I plan, and I always think I can get more done than is humanly possible, at least for this human. And when it comes to life? Forget it. I overestimate the positive and underestimate the negative.

Being an incurable optimist is a blessing. And a curse. Take last Saturday for an example. Please, someone, take it!

With the recent addition of steroids to my cancer treatments I’m now sometimes strong enough to help with kitchen duty. Last Saturday we were preparing for a family gathering, a celebration of three birthdays. I’ve always loved family times, and I do even more now when I realize, as we all should, the bittersweet shortness of time. Strong on my steroids, I’d made several pans of lasagna and decided to help our daughter, Kimmee, with the desserts.

Kimmee wins blue ribbons by the handfuls for her desserts at the county fair. Not only do they taste amazing, they look beautiful. She cares a lot about them because, as she says: “If you’ve known me for any period of time, you’ve probably picked up on that one of my primary ways of showing my friends and family I love them is by baking and/or cooking for them.”

She was making time consuming desserts for the birthday people: a cinnamon roll apple pie, a pumpkin swirl cheesecake with spiced whipped cream, and a triple chocolate mousse cake. Kimmee appreciated my help washing dishes and getting out ingredients. Then I decided to take the pie crust out of the oven for her.

I still don’t know what happened. One minute the pie was in my hands. The next the glass pan was hitting the open oven door, my leg, and the floor. I didn’t get hurt; the pan didn’t break, but I couldn’t believe how many tiny pieces a pie crust can shatter into. The mess was horrific. And I knew Kimmee had everything timed so she could get it all done.

I just stared at the mess.

“Mom! Don’t cry! Are you okay?”

There wasn’t a word of rebuke, not a groan of how in the world am I going to finish this now.

Obviously, I’d underestimated the chemo-induced neuropathy in my hands and overestimated my steroid strength. I felt terrible for the extra time and work I’d caused our daughter on such a busy day. But that’s life, isn’t it? We mess up. And if we’re blessed, we have people in our lives who understand and forgive us.

I really did feel horrible, but even with tears in my eyes I started grinning. A song or a quote seems to pop into my brain on many occasions. I barely managed to keep from singing the words, “Bye-bye, Miss American Pie!”

That pie was a goner, but the next was even more beautiful and tasty. I did not offer to take it out of the oven.

Our family enjoyed the lasagna and loved the desserts. It was wonderful being together. After everyone left and I snuggled, tired and happy in bed, I was still humming “Bye-bye, Miss American Pie!”

And then I remembered a quote I’d read somewhere about estimating. It said something about the two things hardest for people to grasp are the shortness of time and the length of eternity.

Now that’s something I don’t want to mess up, and I don’t suppose you do either.