The Recipe on the Mug

Journal

First Thanksgiving without Grandma Rose. I found her pumpkin pie recipe tucked in the back of the cookbook — butter stains and all.

I had her recipe printed on a mug, so she'd still be at the table with us. Cheesy? Maybe. I don't care.

Mom came over early to 'supervise.' We got flour on the dog, the floor, and somehow the ceiling.

By four o'clock the house smelled like cinnamon and butter, and the table was full.

The pie was gone by dessert. The mug stays. Some recipes aren't really about the pie.