We played here as children. Something deeper than nostalgia draws me back to visit; a time traveler trying in vain to return to a perfect moment. I step carefully and hold my breath I creep into the ruins. I don’t want to scare away the ghosts of childhood memories. Once laughter rang off these mossy walls. I can hear its echo in the holy silence that protects this place. The old oven is frozen at the moment when we left it for more grown up entertainments. I peek inside. Alas, Time has eaten all our fine mud pies. Far in the back of the oven, preserved from the wind and rain, rests a single pie. With a triumphant smile I bring it out and offer you a bite.