My grandma passed away a few years back and there are way too many moments that come to mind when I'm told to choose one to write about. The one that immediately pops into my head, though, is Thanksgiving. I have always loved thanksgiving because baking/cooking is one of my favorite things to do.

As I was growing up, the love for cooking/baking came from my aunt, my grandma and my mom. However, the one who always stole the center of attention was my grandma, Aba. She always had the most fashionable outfit, had her nails done bright red, and her hair was always on fleek. Ever since I can remember, she always had a million things to say, and I would sit at the counter top chair (while making the bread stuffing with my cousin Rebecca) listening to all the ways I would one day be able to cook like her.

My eyes would gaze to the millions of dishes on the stove; some even overflowing. Those, she would say, are the ones that turn out the best. Then, all the chatter would stop when the crash of a glass hit the floor. I would tear up because most of the time it was caused by one of the 8 children in the household. (me and my 3 siblings and 4 cousins) Then she would look at me and say “Es Buena Suerte.” Which means “It's good luck.” That's what it will forever mean to me.

When the dinner finally came around, making deserts was my absolute favorite part. She would put me, my sister and my cousin Rebecca in matching orange aprons and we would work together to make the dish that she actually made up, gooey pumpkin pie, which to this day is still one of my favorite deserts. A couple hours before everyone came for dinner, she would put a filled glass of water upside down on the table outside. And I would ask her why, and it would also be for good luck.

This story was written by Eva.