I don't like desserts, but I love the joy of baking something sweet for someone else.

My grandma built this joy inside me. She and my grandpa lived downstairs from us, which made it easy to tell when she was baking. I loved running my fingers through the dough. I loved the smell of flour in the air. I loved using her tools and wearing her aprons. But most of all, I loved the time I had with her in the kitchen, waiting to see if what we crafted would come out just right. She would share the treats with my family, grandparents, and cousins who lived next door. Every time I bake, I feel the warmth of my grandma's kitchen, and the love of family always near.​