We stand in the old kitchenOn the white rustic floorsWith cloth draped over the tableMy tiny hands are ready

She gets the flourAs I stretch to get eggsAt the back of the fridgeMy fingers slipShe saves it from behindWe laugh

We lower the mixerAdd the ingredientsI scoop a bit of batter into my mouthShe sees me but pretends not to noticeIt makes me feel warm insideBaking bread with Nana

I wait for the loaf to riseWe talk about things that we love togetherSports, food, and just lifeThe aroma of the perfect bakery fills the roomAs I embrace the smellAnd know it was made with love