Crossing my fingers for my grandmother's caste iron skillet when she dies

I am not proud of that title, but in all honesty my grandparents called us to ask what we would want should they die. I really only want them to live forever, but alas, that is not real life, as they continue to tell me. Little do they know that most of the teen fantasy and adventure books I read tell about people living forever!

The one thing that came to mind was as I was growing up one of my favorite times with my grandparents was being in their kitchen learning and relearning the process of making homemade tortillas. We would mix the ingredients together and then let it rise. Later I would lean over the wooden cutting board, rolling out tortillas with the small wooden rolling pin. I would make sure to poke a hole in the middle for air to escape. My grandmother would be beside me laying my beautiful creations in the hot oil in the caste iron skillet. After they came out of the skillet, they would be laid on a towel resting on a round plate which would be covered with another towel.

As my grandmother's health came and went, my grandfather would take her place in the kitchen to mind the hot oil. They were always so patient with me and so kind. Hard as I try, there is not one memory of anything but love in that kitchen.