Nellie went to her nephew’s house for Thanksgiving, so when I arrived the next Tuesday afternoon I asked her how she enjoyed her visit. “Oh, it was nice,” she answered. “We ate, and then we watched a movie…I don’t know what it was called, but it wasn’t very interesting. Something about a girl who worked in the subway selling tickets. My nephew said they had watched it about twenty times already, but I wasn’t interested.”
I had the feeling I knew the movie. It sounded very much like the beginning of While You Were Sleeping, which I have to admit I’ve thoroughly enjoyed ever since I watched it for the first time years ago with my college roommates. “Was it uninteresting because it was in English, or because you didn’t like the story itself?” I queried.
“The story was alright, I guess. I just wasn’t interested because I was so sleepy. But then when the movie was over, we had dessert. Diana made two pies. One pie was red and the other one…oh, I don’t remember what it’s called. You know what it is. I’m sure you do. It’s traditional for Thanksgiving.”
“Pumpkin?” I offered.
“Yes, yes, that’s it. Anyway, I told Karik I didn’t want that one; I said, ‘I don’t like it—they give it to us at the nursing home all the time and it’s nasty.’ And he told me, ‘But this one is homemade! You have to try it. Just a little piece.’ And he cut me just a little tiny piece…and it was so tasty! I couldn’t believe it.”
I laughed. “I know what you mean! I don’t like store-bought pumpkin pie at all, but homemade…it’s one of my favorites.”
She smiled and nodded, and said, in English, “Delish.”
