Blueberry

 The grandmother, who was known to everyone- grandkids or otherwise, as Baybay, was always baking, whether it was muffins, pies, or fancy French breads from boulangeries she could only imagine. 

Baybay had been born in Gardner and never left but had often envisioned herself as an accomplished pastry chef with a Parisian storefront to fill. It was a comforting fantasy for her after raising seven boys and having those episodes with her heart. She always thought she'd get to Paris one day but instead had happily settled on baking, now primarily for her grandchildren.

More often than not, Baybay added blueberries to her creations, and the smell of homemade treats would waft out of her second-story apartment and out to the street. Ramona, Baybay's oldest granddaughter, liked it best when the blueberries came from Baybay's backyard. As soon as the berries were plump and ready, usually the third week of July, Baybay would have a feast of blueberry muffins with sugared tops prepared for anyone who visited. 

It was that smell- summer sun mixed with perfect blueberry muffins- that created the most accurate picture of Baybay in Ramona's mind. She could see her little grandmother hunched over the dining room table, arthritic hands arranging muffins on a big brown plate, and it was what Ramona missed the most after Baybay passed away from a stroke.