The removal van has just left, my parents have wished me well and said their goodbyes. I’m alone as I unpack in my new home and memories surface like bubbles in a glass of lemonade as I remember Saturday mornings at home. It was the time my Mother baked her apple pies, ‘’every one’s favourite’’.

Apples would cover the table with square cores slowly on the turn alongside ribbons of red and green peel, flour misting the air, our home filled with an anthem of aromas.

I can see my Mother now, baking on her Mother’s table that bore the scars of being lovingly scrubbed and cared for. My Mother loved that table; it was the hub of our home and in a strange way that table seemed to be connected to everything that happened in our home.

I remember one particular Saturday playing outside and I came back in pretending I needed a drink of water.

What’s the matter, my Mother asked, who have you been fighting with?

I remember asking myself, how does my mother know these things?

I didn’t start it, I remembered spurting excitedly, it was Cliff Moody, he kicked the football into Mrs. Price’s garden and wouldn’t get it.

Go knock on Mrs. Price’s door, ask politely, may I get the ball, here, take these apple cores, share them with Cliff and make friends.

I think of how a handful of apple cores mended a friendship, the smell of apple pies filling every room, and of course a magical table that brought everything together to make a home, a Home.

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Sandra James
Sandra James(@sandra-james)
2 years ago

A lovely story, Eric. You evoked a wonderful memory for me, not of apple pies but of tomato sauce and chutney. I remember as a child coming home from school and could smell the aroma from the front gate. Mum and Nan would have spent the day preparing and cooking tomatoes, apples and onions. I could come inside and watch them bottling the results…and forget about the outside world. I love your… Read more »

Carrie OLeary
Carrie OLeary(@carrie-oleary)
2 years ago

Mmm, I can almost smell the apple pie. My grandma’s house always smelled of baking. Dundee cake and date and walnut cake were her specialty; unfortunately usually a little overdone. Aromas really do give a sense of home though.

Leena Auckel
Leena Auckel(@leena-auckel)
2 years ago

Nice story smelling of apple pies and memories!

Susan Dawson
Susan Dawson(@susan-dawson)
2 years ago

Have never heard of apple cores being a treat like that, but maybe we are back in times when they would be appreciated again, sadly. In fact I am thinking the apple pie may be more the thing relegated to the past because I hear the gremlins are buying all the flour up again in the shops ready to stockpile.

Sandra James
Sandra James(@sandra-james)
2 years ago

I’ve just read the latest comments where Susan Dawson commented about never having heard of eating the apple cores as a treat. I hadn’t either and her comment reminded me of when I was a very shy exchange student in New Zealand. I stayed with a lovely family one weekend and after dinner they had home-grown apples from their farm. Delicious. I ate mine, then looked around wondering where to put my… Read more »

2 years ago

Eric, it is a great pleasure to hear you reading this story! Every nuance of the tale – the lovingly scrubbed table, the flour dusting the air, the apple cores, the young boy who didn’t start the fight – all comes alive in your own unique voice. Please keep recording!

Christer Norrlof
Christer Norrlof(@christer-norrlof)
2 years ago

I enjoyed reading and listening to your story, Eric. It’s a lovely portrait of a man’s memory of his childhood home. What a great description of the relationship between mother and son! There’s a deep feeling of love, care and understanding coming forth in your story, both in reading it and while listening to your voice. I also love the way you give the kitchen table a very special place in the… Read more »

Pragya Rathore
Pragya Rathore(@pragya-rathore)
2 years ago

This story was wonderful. I love how the theme of apple pies tied in with the warmth associated with the protagonist’s mother, how this story gave me the comfortable feeling of being at home. Simply lovely. And the part about the mother being able to tell that he had had a fight was truly relatable 🙂

Lotchie Carmelo
Lotchie Carmelo(@lotchie-carmelo)
2 years ago

It’s a very good illustration of a child reliving his memories of their old house with his mother baking apple pie for his family. The smell of apple pie I smelled too. I enjoyed reading it, Eric.

Staci Harrington
Staci Harrington(@staci-harrington)
1 year ago

Oh Eric, what a fabulous story. Not many things make me cry but this is something else, very powerful imagery. Beautifully written. Thank you so much for sharing.

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