They’re the first things I see on the table, and I have to do a check to make sure I’m not seeing things. People are talking around me, but it all gets drowned out. I didn’t know anyone else ever made these. My eyes begin to well with tears I didn’t know I still had. How could one little thing bring up such emotion?

I pick one up with a smile and place it carefully on my plate, almost giddy. Reminiscing. My husband looks at me questioningly and chuckles. I explain, “Nana would make these, and they’re the best! I used to help her make them.” 

“Oh,” he says, finally understanding as we move through the other food choices.

I’m careful to make sure the other food I choose doesn’t touch my precious little pie. It remains untouched. I save it for last.

The pie is heavy in my hand, heavier than I would think for such a small thing. Just as it should be. I take the first small bite. With such a small pie, that one bite is about half of it. Sugar and pecan bits fill my mouth—sweet caramel goodness. Memories flooded my mind. 

The front door closes behind me as I step into the warmth of her home. Red oriental-patterned rug. White couch. The smell of a roast in the crockpot. Baking items are laid out on the counter. “Hey, kiddo!” Her soft face, gently wrinkled with graceful age, smiles, happy to see me.

It’s so quiet, and I can almost see the scene in front of me. I know it’s not real, but it could be. I want it to be. Back to reality, I look at the filling of the other small half of the miniature pie. Sweet crystals of sugar, bits of pecan, a crumbly pie pastry. I take another bite, the last bite.

“Don’t eat the filling!” she tells me while laughing. “We have to fill the rest of these, kid!” Her voice is faked disappointment. It was the only time I’d eat nuts in my desert. I laugh as I lick the spoon.

I knew the holidays would never be the same without you. Heck, every day is not the same without you. There are still days–days I feel especially proud or days I’m extra irritated–I want to call you and fill you in on this life. This time of year, though, I cling to your memory even more. You helped make Christmas warm, inviting, and cozy. Even when I didn’t think I needed it, you took care of me.

I didn’t think one little pecan tart would bring you up, but I’m glad it did. 

You’re alive, you’re alive in my head. — “Marjorie,” Taylor Swift