I have replayed those small Saturday mornings many times since.

I remember how she used to place our bracelets side by side on the counter while I whisked eggs.

I remember how she would insist that both of us choose a song for our pancake dance.

I remember her solemn rule that even a burnt pancake counted if we ate it together.

At the time, these seemed like charming habits that she would naturally outgrow.

Now I understand that they were also an agreement: whatever else happened, there would always be some part of our week that belonged to us.