“You never know when you’ll need a record.”

“Of course you would say that.”

“I’ve been paying bills longer than you’ve been alive.”

We spent the afternoon sorting recipe cards.

Some carried the names of relatives I knew; others belonged to women who had moved away decades earlier.

There were splashes of chocolate, butter stains, and handwritten adjustments made after hundreds of ordinary dinners.

When I asked which cake was her favorite, she didn’t choose the elaborate wedding masterpiece.

“The simple one your grandfather asked for every birthday,” she said.