When my parents were visiting, they told me this story about my dad’s parents. I already knew that my paternal grandparents loved cooking. I think I have a picture I took in my childhood of them in the kitchen working on a meal together. Since they lived across the country from us and died when I was a teenager, I didn’t get to visit them very often, but somehow I still knew that their times in the kitchen together were the highlight of their days. In fact, they would even take pictures of their finished products on occasion.
So, it was easy for me to form a picture in my mind as my dad shared this story: