What do pie dough and nostalgia have in common?

I think the weirdest thing about losing electricity and heat during such a reflective and family-oriented time like Thanksgiving is not the lack of me-time, but the immense self reflection that followed a period of high intensity family time. Finally back in the kitchen and baking, getting the gratitude gears turning within me wasn't all that difficult. What was difficult was realizing the deep seeded pang that I thought I had healed months ago. Once superficial, then cut infinitely and gaping, I thought I had neatly sealed away any sort of rooted nostalgia. A few hours and pies later, I locate the source of my angst and here I fester. Do I reach out again? Do I let time keep passing, furthering temporal and, for the time being, geographic space between us? Usually I let my emotions be directed by whatever universal tug I'm feeling, and right now I've never felt more pulled. Note to self: apple pies and nostalgic trips down photo album memory lane do not make a stable Taylor. Not unhappy, I'm just feeling confused and very stuck. Time to sleep.