Between Bruises & Blooms

Some recipes become family
long before they’re written down.

A fork too big,
a bite too small,
cream on tiny lips
instead of napkins.

The cheesecake won’t remember
who ate it first.

But I will remember
the sleepy smiles,
the sticky fingers,
the quiet little hums of approval,
and the way love
looked like dessert
shared between generations.

Years from now,
they won’t ask
how much sugar was in it.

They’ll ask,

“Was Grandma’s cheesecake really that good?”

And I’ll smile.

“Better.” ❤️