HAYLEY
The first day of October rolls in by the weekend, and all of Greystone is already immersed in the beauty of autumn. From my window, I watch brown-orange leaves fall from the trees in the neighborhood, tousling through the street as the breeze kicks them about.
As is common in our house, my Mom's yearly tradition of making Pumpkin Pie is set for next week. In preparation for the baking, she's opted to go to the store today—with me.
My Mom never makes me go to the store with her, but I know today's occasion is her own way of getting us to spend time together, and hopefully douse the effect of our row during the week. As we drive to the town’s store, she hands me a custom baking menu with a bunch of different Pumpkin Pie ideas from which to make my pick.
I accept her olive bran
