To me, my Grandpa was a quiet, melancholy man, unable to find peace from my Grandma’s death years before I was born. However, on one summer evening, many years ago, I saw a different side t o him that I will always treasure. My Grandpa and I were talking on his front porch when the subject turned to my Grandma’s cooking.  Suddenly, his stoic demeanor changed as he smiled and reminisced about her tender pork roast, bread & butter pickles and her delicious blueberry pie. He said that my Grandma always made a blueberry pie for his birthday and his blue eyes sparkled as he recalled the crust and the sweet berry filling. I was stunned that I stumbled on something as simple as pie to make my Grandpa smile. After hearing his testimony, my mother and I made sure Grandpa received a birthday blueberry pie for the rest of his years. My Grandpa’s reverie made me realize at a young age that pie can compose unforgettable memories.