The One With The You, Me, And Two (Suffragette) Spoons Pie.

Dear Lover,

Today I made a pie.
Wore an apron.
Had a flour mark on my cheek.
Vanilla-scent stained fingertips.
There's beauty in baking.
And sweet satisfaction of creating something to share with others.

I like being single.
I can make my own decisions.
Do whatever I feel.
Like deciding to make a chocolate pie at 4 o'clock in the afternoon.
And eating it for dinner.
There's independence in that.
And the sweet satisfaction of completing something all on my own.

Still.

I wished you were here.
The pie between us.
Mmmmmm-ing as we tossed the idea of eight pie slices to the birds.
Instead, sharing it straight out of the pie pan.

Two separate spoons is about as independent as I'd like to be.
Right about now.

Love,
Me.