Since Grandma Lola didn’t have a car, Uncle Jimmy gave us a ride to her house which was only a few minutes away. Grandma Lola had an old, rickety two-story farmhouse, the second floor which she rented out. Uncle Jimmy hauled my suitcase through the snow-covered front yard and we entered through the side door. The house was clearly the home of a fastidious old woman; the kitchen was coral green and organized, which led into a sitting room splashed with doilies and little glass and porcelain figures in cabinets. Grandma Lola’s room was off to one side, and the guest room which I was led to was opposite hers, down a short hall.

  The guest room was all laid out for me, with the bed freshly made and a toothbrush on the cedar nightstand, in case I had forgotten mine (which I hadn’t). One of Grandma Lola’s cats tried to sneak in once I opened the door, but I slammed it shut before it could get in. I had always been allergic to cats, and the last thing I wanted was to suffocate on cat hair in the middle of the night. I started unpacking, and once I finished Grandma Lola showed me around the house before she decided to retire for the evening. I watched TV for a bit before changing into my pajamas and fell asleep reading Robinson Crusoe.

  Grandma Lola was already up by the time I crawled out of bed, and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes I saw that she was hard at work making pancakes and bacon. She sipped her coffee in her robe while I tore apart the pancakes, which were thin and rich – just how I liked them. They even had real maple syrup and a load of butter on top. Even the bacon was perfectly cooked, and before I knew if I had devoured everything.

  “So Maya, it looks like it snowed last night, so we’re homebound today,” she said cheerfully.

  I sighed through the final mouthful of pancake. “So what are we going to do today?”

  “Well, why don’t you get dressed and we can think of something.”

  I raised my eyebrow. “If we’re stuck in the house, why do I need to get out of my pajamas?”

  Grandma Lola quietly took a sip of her coffee, choosing not to respond. The silence was filling, and before I knew it I was clearing my plate and walking back to the guest room. I nearly tripped on Grandma Lola’s orange tabby, and once again I had to shoo them out of the room. Funny, I thought to myself, how am I not sneezing around the cats? I should be dying by now.

  After slipping on a white sweater and skirt, along with some black leggings due to the chill in the house. Grandma Lola had migrated out to the sitting room, and was stroking her sleek black cat on her lap. I sat on the sofa, which was stiff and red, idly looking around the room. There were many cat figurines on small shelves around the room, as well as several pictures of family on the walls. And plenty more of her cats. I saw a bookcase filled with old tomes, but it looked uninviting. I had no idea what I was going to do for the next two days. I noticed something in the corner, however, underneath a tarp and a few plants. I saw what looked like foot pedals peeking out of the bottom.

  “Grandma, what’s that over there?”

  “Hm? Oh, it’s just my old upright piano. I used to give piano lessons, you know.”

  I did not know. In fact, I had no idea that anyone in my family had any sort of musical ability. In my previous life as Matthew I had taken up the guitar for fun as an adult, but I had always wished I had started earlier. I figured reliving my childhood was a good opportunity to learn the piano since I was desperately trying to stave off the boredom of reliving my life for the second time. I had lots of free time, so I had to fill it with something.

  “I’ve been taking piano lessons. I even have a keyboard at home that I got for Christmas last year.”

  Grandma Lola’s eyes brightened. ‘I didn’t know that! How long have you been playing?”

  “Um, a few months after…well, you know. So a little over a year.”

  “I always tried to get your mother and your grandmother to take up an instrument. In fact, I could never get your grandmother to take up anything! Well, except reading, of course. I may not have finished school, but I am always reading something.”

  “I love reading! In fact, I’m almost finished with Robinson Crusoe. I’ve been going through the classics, and I was thinking of working through Dickens next.”

  Grandma Lola nodded approvingly. “That’s quite impressive, Maya! I’ve always said that a girl needs to have a good head on her shoulders, and the best way to do it is reading. I never had a head for school; never liked tests!”

  “Well, school is pretty boring. I get A’s in everything though. Mostly everything.”

  “If you’re reading those books at eleven, I’ll bet you’d think they’re boring!” She lifted her cat off of her lap and sat up. “Give me a minute, and I’ll clear off the piano. Can you read the notes?”

  Once the piano was uncovered and dusted, we sat on the bench with a few of Grandma’s old sheet music books. She had me sight-read a few of the easier ones, and I did them fairly effortlessly. I had spent many hours at my keyboard in my room practicing, since I had the discipline of an adult. We sat for hours taking turns playing, and I think she was impressed with my ability. We went through a few Bach pieces, and it was a struggle but I was able to work through them. Grandma even admitted that she was out of practice, but we made a good try of it. After spending the morning sitting at the piano, we decided to give our fingers a break.

  “Your mother and I used to bake a lot when she stayed with me,” Grandma said. “Would you like to make a treat together?”

  I shrugged. “Home economics is the one class I don’t get A’s in. I’m not very good at cooking.”

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  Grandma nodded, but led me into the kitchen. “Well, maybe we can do it together. What’s your favorite kind of cookie?”

  “Chocolate chip. But I don’t know how –”

  “Oh good. That’s a good place to start, and I have everything we need in the pantry. Let me show you my recipe.”

  Grandma pulled out a scrapbook from the cabinet in the kitchen, and paged through it. I wished that I had had pockets in my skirt so that I could stick my hands in them and not stand so awkwardly, so I crossed my arms instead while I waited for her to find her recipe. Once found, she passed the card to me and we dug through her pantry. It was well-stocked; she seemed to have everything you could need, all in their labeled containers. It was a little overwhelming and she handed me everything to put on her prep table in the middle of the kitchen.

  Grandma walked me through the steps, sensing that I was lost in the shuffle. She showed me her way of measuring out everything, and had me do all of it. She critiqued everything from the way I stirred to the way I cracked the eggs. She always insisted that I go through the list of steps on the recipe card and not to try and do everything at once. She inspected my work at every step, and once our dough was placed on the tray in rows, Grandma reminded me to clean up in the order that I made the mess. It did make me feel a bit more confident with Grandma going step by step with me.

  We played on the piano a bit more while we waited for the cookies to bake and later while they cooled. I started to notice that Grandma Lola and I were similar in many ways, and not just with our piano playing. She was very methodical and patient, which is how I found myself since becoming female. As Matthew, I had been a bit headstrong and argumentative. She also had a cleverness about her, and I appreciated that she spoke her mind. These were qualities that I was trying to foster now that I was a girl, though I had no intention of becoming a housewife in my teens like she did.

  When the cookies cooled, a taste test confirmed that they came out perfectly. I was oddly proud of myself; they tasted just like Grandma always made them. “You know,” suggested Grandma, “we could make a few more batches. What are Tim and Janie’s favorite cookies?”

  Since I was so pleased that I was finally successful at baking something, it was easy to convince me to make some more. We ended up making peanut butter as well as gingerbread, and Grandma pulled out her beloved set of antique cookie cutters. She even showed me how to decorate them with a piping bag – a device I didn’t even know existed. It was early evening by the time we finished, and Grandma pulled out several holiday tins that she said I could take home with me to bring the cookies home. Once again, with her help, they came out very well.

  Once we finished cleaning up, we pulled out a cribbage board and took it into the sitting room. Her black cat had decided to park himself in my lap as we played, and once again I was amazed that I had no allergic reaction at all. It was pretty obvious that Grandma Lola was going easy on me, since she was deviously good at cards. But I was enjoying the conversation regardless, and even petted the cat..

  “I don’t mean to pry, Maya,” said Grandma as she beat me once again. “But how do you feel about not being Matthew anymore?”

  I wasn’t expecting her to ask me about my transformation. These days, I didn’t really think about it as much as I used to, and only if someone reminded me or something triggered me. It always made me feel awkward and fake when I thought about it too much and remembered the decades of my previous timeline. Not to mention that I secretly knew what the future held, having lived through the 90s before. I was much happier when my brain went on autopilot and my body did what came naturally.

  “I’m getting used to it,” I answered quietly. “Most of the time I don’t think about it.”

  “Do you like being a girl?”

  I was quiet for a moment. “Yes,” I eventually answered. “But I don’t think I really know how to be a girl. I’m just trying to figure it out as I go.”

  “I think I understand,” responded Grandma. “It’s difficult to think about the future when there’s so much change.”

  ‘I think about the future a lot.”

  “Does it worry you, the future?” Grandma asked.

  “No. Yes. I don’t know. I guess I just don’t know what I should be doing. I have a lot of opportunities and things I want to do, but I just don’t know where to start sometimes.”

  Grandma nodded thoughtfully. “Remember when we were making the cookies today?” I nodded. “That’s the best way to go when you’re not sure about what is coming in your life. You make a list, and do the work. Step by step.”

  “What if…you do know the future?” I asked cautiously.

  “No one knows the future, Maya.”

  “But let’s say you do. Maybe you have a really good idea about what is going to happen.”

  Grandma shrugged. “Then you still make that list. You organize yourself as much as you can, and do it one step at a time. That’s how things get done.”

  I pondered for a moment. Obviously Grandma was just humoring me, but her advice was elegant in its simplicity. I hadn’t thought of planning things out; I’d just been in survival mode as I got used to my new body and my new gender. Sort of throwing things against the wall and seeing what sticks. However, I think I was at the point where I was comfortable enough with my new situation that I could start taking advantage of being stuck in the past. My life may be on a completely different trajectory, but there were certainly some constants out there that I could plan around. I was deep in thought as Grandma stroked her cat, and I continued to think deeply as Grandma tucked me in bed.

  The next morning, the snow melted just a bit, which was good because my Uncle Jimmy was going to take me with him to Minnesota. He was heading to the Twin Cities and my parents had made arrangements for me to ride back with him. Before he arrived, Grandma made yet another amazing stack of pancakes and we did one last round on the piano together. My suitcase was all ready to go by the time my uncle arrived.

  Grandma Lola hugged me through my snowsuit. “Maya, I am so glad we were able to spend some time together. You’re a wonderful girl, and I hope you come to stay with me again soon!”

  “I hope so too,” I answered honestly. “Thanks for showing me how to make cookies. I think I’ll do better in class this week.”

  “Well, you were getting a B. That’s still very good, but you can do better. Make that list, and take it step by step!”

  Uncle Jimmy hauled my suitcase and the tins of cookies to his truck, and made a final wave to Grandma Lola, who stood next to her mailbox waving as we drove away. Uncle Jimmy was a nice guy, but not much in the way of a conversationalist, especially when it came to a girl about a third of his age. I mostly stared out the window at the snowy landscape passing us by, considering carefully what Grandma’s advice had been, and what sort of plans I could make.

  And the more I thought about it, I started coming up with some serious plans.