By Hillary Nguyen
My grandma never baked us cookies
Her apartment always incense and congee
Never vanilla or hot cocoa wafting
And this is the obligatory line where I say
My grandparents showed through affection
With brimming plates of carefully peeled fruits—
Sweet persimmon wedges, jeweled grapes
Perfect watermelon cubes and nuggets of mango.
Today I made chocolate chip cookies
And the whole house smelled of vanilla
And chocolate, which to say, it smelled
Like a nostalgic dream I convinced my mind of;
But I gave my friends the second batch of cookies
From the oven, because everyone knows that
The first batch is always for practice,
And I can’t help but think my grandma never taught
Me to make browned butter chocolate chip cookies
Instead, she taught me to give offer the best parts
Of yourself to others, share the warmth
Reminiscent of sweet incense and savory congee
So, I share the fruits of my labor and love;
I bake you fresh cookies, and trust you like poetry.
Hillary Nguyen (she/her) was born and raised in the Bay Area, and is a kinesiology major at the
University of San Francisco. She creates spoken word as well as written poetry, and her work has been
published in the LL Anthology: Circles. In her downtime, she enjoys exploring new creative mediums and
interesting places.
Hot Pot Magazine 