Swedish Buns

My best friend’s mom is Swedish.
Sometimes when I went to her house, I would hear the pans and pots banging together, almost like an orchestra of kitchen supplies. When I was younger I went to Emma’s house a lot. I loved it because we had a special tradition.
Emma and I would wander into the kitchen, and right in front of our eyes was the making of the most amazing thing you will ever taste: delightful, rich, airy Swedish cinnamon buns. We rolled the gooey, gloppy dough until it was paper-thin. We smothered the butter, we sprinkled the cinnamon, and finally the sugar came snowing down on the sheets of dough. With our dainty fingers, we picked up the knives and cut the dough into slender pieces. Following that, we rolled each and every slender piece into a tight little bun.
Into the oven they went. My nose was going crazy. I could smell the sweet sensation. The smells snuck out of the oven and crept up into my nose and it felt as amazing as the first day of summer. I pressed my face up against the warm glass and watched the buns rise. To little girls like me and Emma, this dessert was magic.
While we waited for the cinnamon buns to rise, Emma and I wandered off to play. Emma let me play with her most prized possession, which was a plastic doll, missing half a head of hair and one arm. Before we knew it, a whole imaginary world came to life. We were saving people from burning buildings, having tea with the president, and exploring jungles. One of our favorite games to play was called “Don’t Fall in the Lava.” To viewers, this game looked like two silly girls jumping from couch to coffee table to piano bench. But to us, we were in a world of boiling, toxic lava! In that world, it was up to us to save each other’s lives.
“ Julia…? Emma…? The cinnamon buns are ready,” said Emma’s mom.
We dashed into the kitchen, as we woke up from our imaginary world.
When the steaming buns came out of the oven, the grease was swimming around in circles. Emma’s mom handed me a bun. As I took a bite into the warm, moist, delicious bun, my taste buds danced with joy. By the second bite, my whole mouth had thrown a party.
“ Look! I’m a cinnamon bun princess!” Emma said, as she placed the bun on top of her head to represent a crown.
Emma and I entered a new imaginary world of princesses for the rest of the afternoon. We had cinnamon sticks for wands, and tutus made out of tin foil. Emma made sure to add her own design to the tutus using frosting.
When I got home I settled into my cushioned, bouncy bed. I could hear my most favorite dessert calling my name from fifteen blocks away. This dessert is important to me because it symbolizes my very special friendship with Emma. We still make the same dessert today, and I hope we continue this tradition for many years to come.

Julia Mervis, Age 12, Grade 7, MS 245 the Computer School, Silver Key

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