By May 2027. Sofia finishes her senior year of high school. Her final race in a high school uniform: the state track championship, 3200 meters. She won. Her time set a new state record, breaking the record she set last year, breaking her own record in her final race. She crossed the finish line and raised both arms and looked at the sky before she looked at the crowd, which I noticed and which I thought about all the way home. She looked up first. That's where her conversation was. Then she looked at us. Then she smiled. The three-stage acknowledgment of someone who knows what they're doing and why.
She leaves for Stanford in September. I've been through this once with Diego and the second time is both more prepared and more poignant. More prepared because I know what the dorm room looks like and what the drive home feels like. More poignant because she is my Sofia, which is different from everything else I've said in this journal about my children. Each one is singular. The loss of presence is singular for each of them. I am learning to hold the specificity of each leaving.
Hector called after her race. He'd been watching on the streaming service — it's a track meet, not a football game, and he watched it anyway because it was Sofia. He said, "She looked up before she looked down." I said I'd noticed too. He said, "That's a person who knows where she's going." Yes. It is exactly that. My father and I, watching from three hundred miles in different directions, saw the same thing in my daughter at her finish line. The chain of attention: Hector watching me, me watching Sofia, all of us knowing where we're going.
When Sofia crossed that finish line and looked up before she looked at any of us, the recipe that came to mind was the one I’d been saving for exactly this kind of moment — the Sky-Is-The-Limit Pudding Pie, which I’d always thought was a silly name until it wasn’t. She broke her own record in her final high school race, and she looked up at the sky first, and I needed a dessert that matched that feeling exactly. We made it the evening she got home, still in her warm-up jacket, and Hector was on the phone from three hundred miles away asking if there was any left for him.
Sky-Is-The-Limit Pudding Pie
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 2 hours 15 minutes (includes chilling) | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 1 pre-made graham cracker pie crust (9-inch)
- 2 packages (3.4 oz each) instant vanilla pudding mix
- 2 1/2 cups cold whole milk
- 1 container (8 oz) frozen whipped topping, thawed, divided
- 1/2 cup rainbow sprinkles or star-shaped candy decorations, divided
- 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
- 1/4 teaspoon almond extract (optional)
- Fresh berries or fruit, for topping (optional)
Instructions
- Make the pudding base. In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the instant pudding mix and cold milk for 2 minutes until the mixture begins to thicken. Add the vanilla extract and almond extract, if using, and whisk to combine.
- Fold in whipped topping. Gently fold half of the whipped topping (about 1 cup) into the pudding mixture until just combined and smooth. Do not overmix — you want to keep it light and airy.
- Add sprinkles. Fold in 1/4 cup of the sprinkles or candy decorations into the pudding mixture, reserving the rest for the top.
- Fill the crust. Pour and spread the pudding filling evenly into the graham cracker crust.
- Top the pie. Spread the remaining whipped topping over the filling in an even layer. Scatter the remaining sprinkles and any fresh fruit over the top.
- Chill. Refrigerate the pie for at least 2 hours, or until fully set. For best results, chill overnight.
- Serve. Slice and serve cold. Store any leftovers covered in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 310 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 49g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 390mg