My family and I, at times, lived with my grandparents.  Living in my grandparents' home helped me to know both love and stability as I grew and matured day by day. Our family often came together on Sunday evenings for dinner to enjoy whatever my grandmother prepared-- sweet and savory.  I looked forward to her sweetness demonstrated throughout her life-- it became my lifeline. It helped me to be grounded to the thing that mattered most-- family. My grandmother was an incomparable baking machine with her sweet rolls, cornbread, cake, and sweet potato pie-- the aromas of which still waft under my nostrils. When I was a child, I watched while sitting at the kitchen table, my grandmother bake the most scrumptious of desserts. She never measured anything, never had a recipe. She just knew how much sugar and flour to put into her cakes and pies. When she was finished, she would let me lick the bowl to enjoy the sweetness of the flavor. I wanted to become a baker, but I didn’t know the science of baking. My grandmother tried writing down how to make her sweet rolls, but I could never make them taste like hers; however, she did pass on the love of baking to me. Over the years, I learned how to bake pies and cakes, and bread pudding-- a dessert that wastes nothing! Watching my grandmother all of those years has had an impact on me. Her love for baking brings me great joy; it fosters community. Baking helps me to remember all the times I spent learning from my grandmother- things that I can pass on to others-- friends and family alike.
 

– DDL

Relationship:  Great-grandchild of im/migrant or more Great-grandchild of im/migrant or more