
Pumpkin pie
As they stood in line at the coffee shop, they eyed the last piece of plated pumpkin pie disappear into the hands of the Buddhist monk in front of them.
Our pie, Lydia whimpered.
The monk turned. Come sit!
The weary travelers joined the monk. As they drooled over the pie, the monk spoke in broken English asking them about their travels while sharing his own.
One month it took, he said. But in snow, feels like five! He laughed while recalling his escape from Tibet over the Himalaya into India.
But! He smiled, wiggling his ten fingers.
Marcus understood. You kept all your fingers.
The monk nodded.
And your toes? Lydia asked. Any frostbite on your toes?
He grinned. Yes.
The monk pushed the pie in front of them. But here, I have pie.
Lydia and Marcus took a bite of pie and together the three enjoyed the peace of the present moment.
3 comments:
I can face anything if I have pie. Nicely done!
:)
Very nicely done.
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