Rhubarb Pie

Sheila smiled as she took the Rhubarb pie out of the oven. The crust was beautiful … one of the best she had ever made. The rhubarb was from their garden, fresh and fragrant.  She knew that she had to do this when she woke up this morning, that she needed to go out and pick the rhubarb that she had been weeding yesterday, and bake a pie. As she got the ingredients out, and started putting the crust together, she had felt whole for the first time in a long time. Dave was coming home from his business trip today, and Sheila wanted their home looking and smelling like a loving home.

Maybe now things would get better.

(c) June 2012 Bonnie Cehovet


2 comments on “Rhubarb Pie

  1. Funny, i don’t know what’s rhubarb. I didn’t want to look it up in the dictionary and kept reading to see whether the story will move me, regardless of that. And it did – and i knew the feeling you describe and it’s as if i felt the smell of the pie, albeit i don’t know what rhubarb is…

  2. Lena –

    Thank you for keeping on reading! 🙂 I love the pic of rhubarb that you placed on FB – such a beautiful cake!


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