chef-in-progress:

tinylittlesteps:

“Oh, is that so? What do you like to cook the most? Do you.. bake?”

..I wonder if she likes to put a lot of butter in them, just like how nanna used to make her pastries. No, even her beef stew had a slight taste of butter in them, strange as it was, I liked it a lot. But what I liked the most..

“When I get older..”

Was the rainbow cake she gave me on the first day we met. That was the sweetest of them all.

”..U-um.”

          ♨ ]  At the mention of baking, the woman’s eyes lit up, forgetting about the feeling in her heart for the moment. “Oh! I really do love ta bake, now that ya mention it! Cakes are my favorite ta make, though, especially coffee cakes! Oooh, when ya spread that delicious buttah on the top of it when it’s still warm from the oven - best thing! The buttah is probably what makes it bettah, though, since it’s best on most everythin —-“

          ♨ ]  She stopped her rambling when she saw Tiny’s reaction to her question. It seemed as if she was depressed about something. She started asking the other what was bothering her, when suddenly, the feeling in Paula’s heart came back when she looked upon the girl - but it also brought something with it. A vision —- no, a memory played inside the woman’s head. The memory had Tiny in it, and — it was playing from Paula’s point-of-view. A pot was in front of the woman, full of what seemed like some type of stew. She was currently mixing it, and Tiny was helping by adding various things into the mixture; carrots, chicken broth, chopped up meat - was that lamb? - and minced potatoes. Tiny talked and sounded the same in the memory as she did in the present, but then she noticed that there was another voice replying to the girl. An old, southern voice, filled with love, care, and —-

          ♨ ]  The memory then ended, but, right after it ended, another memory started up. It was similar to the one prior, except, it appeared as if Paula had already made something and was presenting it to Tiny. It seemed as if it was —- “Omo, thank you, Miss Paula! This is the best cake I have ever tasted! It’s so cool, rainbow colored - I’ve never seen anything like it! Is it really all for me?” “You’re welcome, sugar. Don’t eat it all now, or you’ll have a stomach ache!” “Alright! Uhm…is it alright if I call you ‘Nanna’? You’re like a grandmother to me now, so would you mind?” A laugh. “Of course not, sweetie! How ‘bout I call ya ‘Tinybaby’ now? Since you’re now like my baby, I think it’s appropriate!” “Ommo, yes! I love you, Nanna!” They embraced like a mother and a daughter would after reuniting. “Love ya too, darlin’.” —- Then, the memory ended.

          ♨ ]  As the woman came out of her daze, she was almost close to sobbing her sweet heart out. I have met this girl before. She’s…mah…child! From mah past life! Paula understood now. Why Tiny was so surprised the first time she saw her. Why she was so upset and shifting in her spot. It was because she was reincarnated. People have told Paula that she was reincarnated from the late Paula Deen - but she believed no one, since they didn’t have any proof but coincidence. But now, after all that has happened after meeting this girl, she did believe. This was solid proof that she was indeed reincarnated. And she had no problem with it.

           ♨ ]  The woman looked at Tiny, love, adoration, and pure happiness present in those crystal blue eyes. With a weak voice that spoke so low that you would have to be about two feet from her to hear and so thick from her strained sobs, she whispered to the girl, her accent heavier with the amount of feelings rising up in her. “T..Tinybaby?” 

Pull yourself together, Tiny. Now’s not the time to reminisce on those things. It’s quite rude to not pay attention when you’re talking to someone! See, she likes to bake, too.

Remember how fun it was, to help nanna around the kitchen? Maybe this time, you can help Paula, too! It could be just as fun as it used to be. It’s not the time to get depressed, it’d be completely unfair to Paula!

Nanna WILL come back for sure, soon, and—

“—…..?”

My name. She called me by my name. Not just my name, but. The name that MY nanna gave to me! Paula, is my Paula? The. But I thought— But her voice and her face and I— I.. She. This lady, she’s my.

”..N-nanna?”