Stories Collected While Living in France

French la Vie

Blackberry Pie

Corey amaro summer fun

 

 

I can't stand it.

Sacha is in Willows, my hometown, with his cousins… his being there makes me want to run and catch the next plane.

The subject matter of Sacha's latest moments with my mom go straight to my heart. He really knows how to get me. Though his "moments" are not about getting me, they are about his getting it…

Family Love.

He worked and saved to pay for his own airline ticket and time abroad.

My mom has everyone in the family over ever Monday night, whoever has a birthday that week has the evening in their honor to celebrate.

My mother makes their favorite things for dinner. Sacha asked for homemade blackberry pie. 

Summer. Childhood. Country. Nothing better.

Very happy for Sacha and yet homesickness is creeping inside me.

What is something you miss about your childhood home?

Comments

23 responses to “Blackberry Pie”

  1. Kipper

    Picking blackberries across the street for Mom and then helping her make jam and pie. There was always a bit of pastry left which was made into a little blackberry tart just for me. Mainly I miss the gorgeous unobstructed view of Puget Sound . We could see submarines surface, all sorts of maritime vessels, beautiful sunsets, smell the salt air,

    Reply
  2. Jan

    I miss my mother’s lilting giggle and my father’s cooking and the comfort that came just from feeling warm and secure when I had brief moments under their roof. And I loved climbing into their bed, no matter how old I was.

    Reply
  3. Bev S.

    When I got married, my mom made 34 homemade blackberry pies for the reception with blackberries she had picked. It is the best food ever.

    Reply
  4. g

    I miss my mom-her voice her laugh her sense of humor her gentleness her everything-that is what I miss most from my childhood home!

    Reply
  5. Kathie

    San Francisco sourdough bread. French crullers from the Dream Fluff doughnut shop on Ashby just below College. Pizza Haven (long gone), the first pizzeria I ever ate at. Ice cream from Bott’s (long gone), across from the movie theater that showed foreign films and just a block from our neighborhood branch of the public library…
    Oh great, now I have a galloping case of saudades!

    Reply
  6. Rachel

    My dad…

    Reply
  7. Marilyn

    Walking through my grandpa’s apple orchard bare foot. The soft warm dirt squishy through my toes. Then back home for warm apple pie. Lucky Sacha!!!

    Reply
  8. Jacklynn Lantry

    Sounds like a yummy bday for Sacha. Is that a tat on his tummy? If so, how ’bout some close ups of his 6 pack?:)

    Reply
  9. Mardog

    Continuing the them of blackberry pies. My Mom’s was the best and my favorite of her desserts. Since my birthday is in November and not the berry season, she’d freeze them and make me a pie for my birthday.

    Reply
  10. Kathleen

    Today, I miss everything. We had my mom’s memorial on the 18th. I brought home all of her cookbooks with recipes in her own handwriting and promised to copy them for the rest of the family.

    Reply
  11. becky up a hill

    I miss the man, who came to save me, married me and gave me a wonderful life for nearly 40 years. He and my childhood home, go hand and hand. When I dream, we are at the home I grew up in, and he is there. He was my home.

    Reply
  12. Taste of France

    I feel for you. I just lost my mom very unexpectedly. I miss it all, but mostly being able to pick up the phone to call her.

    Reply
  13. NancyO

    I grew up on a small farm and my maternal grandparents lived on the an adjoining farm. My younger sister and I roamed both farms and played in the creek and the woods. We played in the summer sun and the winter snows. I miss it all.
    And my mother made wonderful blackberry pie.

    Reply
  14. Our French Oasis

    I couldn’t agree more, no matter how wonderful our homes our and the country we choose to live in, and no matter how fantastic our lives are we still miss “home”.

    Reply
  15. tammyCA

    Without a doubt I miss the certain trees & flowers, soft grass, cornfields and space (and, snow) of my Midwest childhood home. I’ve lived on the west coast for over 30 yrs and still never have felt “at home”..but I also had a rough childhood homelife so really it is Mother Nature I miss..she was my nurturer.

    Reply
  16. Jude

    Growing up in rural NW Florida, the summers were long, hot and filled with berries, garden vegetables, watermelons and swimming holes. No one had a pool. Or air conditioning. We had mostly fruit cobblers if anyone was brave enough to heat up the oven. Mostly we craved ice cream and ice cold watermelons. We lived to go to Cold Water Creek in our cut off jeans and a bikini top and swing from a tree to plop in the ice cold water below.

    Reply
  17. Sharon Nicholes

    I miss the carefreeness, friends at a moments notice. No matter how many friends were there, there was something fun and exciting to do. I miss my Grandms’ s house, her cooking and family parties on the 4th of July with Aunts, Uncles and cousins.

    Reply
  18. Rebecca from the pacific northwest

    I miss lightning bugs arising on a summer’s evening. And my dad’s garden, with irises that bloomed beautifully in the heat and tomatoes bursting with red flavor.

    Reply
  19. Rebecca from the pacific northwest

    Kathleen, I send my condolences too. A few years after my mother died, a friend sent a sweet card that said something about the shock/wonder/joy of seeing your mother’s handwriting on a recipe card. Glad you have all those.

    Reply
  20. Rebecca from the pacific northwest

    Corey, this is a great question and I love the answers!

    Reply
  21. Kathleen

    Thank you, you have my sympathy as well. No matter how old you are your mom is still your mom.

    Reply
  22. Kathleen

    Thank you.

    Reply
  23. JudyMac

    When I was very young, I lived with my Mom and Dad in what was called the “little house,” which was next door to the Big House, a big two-story home my grandparents lived it–built most likely around 1900. The Big House had a wrap-around porch on two sides, and there was always a swing on one end, and sometimes one on the other end also. I have pictures made of myself in that swing when I was a baby, and another picture made just a couple of years ago. That porch was a window into the entire community, a small one in the mountains of Appalachia with a view of the Blue Ridge Parkway, and everyone who drove by then, as they still do now, would throw up their hand to wave hello. A cousin from Florida owns the old family home today and spends most of the summer there. The old porch swings are still there to this day and friends drop in late in the afternoon to sit on the porch and have a bit of wine and cheese with “cuz” and his wife. The swing was a very happy place to be–in every season, rain or shine, day or night.

    Reply

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