We assembled the ingredients: the juice of three lemons, one packet of gelatin, sugar, eggs, flour, butter, salt, and some ice water, for the crust. Making a lemon chiffon pie is not difficult, necessarily; it’s just a blind-baked crust and a chilled filling. But both present opportunities to make mistakes. After we’d sufficiently burnt one crust, I started making another, crumbling the butter into the flour with my hands, like Mom said my grandmother would do, and gathering it all into a ball. My mother reached out to test it, and I noticed with a pang a bruise from her dialysis. She had spent most of her professional career as a psychiatric nurse and has always been a caretaker by nature—driving people who didn’t have cars to and from prison to see their loved ones, visiting friends who were sick, taking people in when they had nowhere else to go. I have always seen this in her hands. They are old and capable and bent from arthritis, and I love them.