A cinnamon scent wakes me. It's a bright Christmas morning. Presents are under the tree, Christmas music plays from downstairs, and the smell of fresh French toast waits in the kitchen. Every Christmas morning, my mom is in the kitchen cooking a delicious breakfast. I find it to be heavily important to my life. In my eyes, this dish goes hand in hand with the entire holiday. It's a sign of family. We all enjoy each other's company while stuffing ourselves until we pop. It’s a sign of sharing. As we eat and eat, my family shares stories about the year. Most importantly, it’s a gift to my taste-buds. Sure, I’ve talked about the pleasantries and positives that are entangled with the dish but, why is it so important to me? I can always find the French toast waiting for me on that counter;  Residing in that same glass dish. It is the most comforting food I can eat. It reminds me of my early childhood. When nothing was wrong, I was full of energy, and excited about any little thing. It reminds me of times when I did not have stress. It reminds me of my purest memories I still cherish today. That French toast holds some of my life's best moments. One day I hope that I am able to prepare it for my family. I wish to pass on this dish to my children. I wish for them to create their own stories, I wish for them to cherish this tradition like I do. I want to wake up every morning to the smell of sweet cinnamon and faint Christmas music, or be the one downstairs in that kitchen.

– Jaxson McCoy

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