Joanne's Pie

Yesterday we bought three pies. It seemed extravagant; we didn't know then that Joanne was dead. Our neighbor whittled away by hard years; she and I had a tenderness for each other. I knew this time with the ambulance was different. I knew she would go without me doing as much as I wanted. It happens that way; and it happened that the third pie, blueberry, was really for those left, the ones who helped her go.