Hey there Insta fam ?? Today, I did a deep dive into some vintage snaps of my grandma. You know, the one who ran the sweetest bakery in Brooklyn for 40 years? ??

What a lady she was! Each photograph is a memory, a story waiting to be told. It's like turning the pages of a book, each chapter revealing more about her, about her world, about her dreams. She was young once, just like me, figuring life out.

She was smiling, radiant in her apron, a dusting of flour on her face, love in her eyes. In one photo, there she is, proudly standing in front of her bakery, the sign shimmering in the afternoon sun ☀️. There’s another one, where she's baking, her hands working magic with the dough. It’s such an intimate, warm scene, it makes my heart swell with pride.

I see her strength in these photos, her resilience, her joy, her spirit. She was more than just a baker; she was a pillar of the community, a provider of joy through her mouth-watering pastries, a beacon of resilience and hard work.

Sometimes I wonder if I have that spark, that strength within me. Looking at my life, it feels so different. But then I see her smile in these old pictures, and I'm reminded - we're cut from the same cloth.

She's not here anymore, but her legacy, her spirit lives on, not just in the sweet aroma of pastries that still clings to the old bakery, but in me, in my heart, in my DNA. I may not be kneading dough or prepping pastries, but I'm baking my own life, one day at a time, hoping I'm making her proud.

Missing her today, and always ❤️