Meme

I told Meme I like a wet crust
A child’s way of saying
A little fruit
A lot of under baked crust
She chuckles softly at my request
Her soft bosom pressed against my back
Holding me steady
Tip toed on an old rusty stool
At her aged linoleum counter
The old stove creaks
Groaning it’s way to 350
Taste of raw doe
Zaps the saliva off my tongue
Thirsty and happy
Meme’s soft instruction
Kneading crisco, cold water, flour
We make more of a mess
Than a dessert
Somehow it comes out delicious
My grandmothers magic
Afternoon snack of baked apples
In a flaky brown skin
A simple act now stamped
In perfect color from my memory