I explained.
She looked unconvinced.
I repeated myself twice that afternoon.
She never acknowledged it.
Yet instead of recognizing that I was being treated unfairly, I went home wondering how I could make a better pie.
That was the pattern I’d fallen into.
They criticized.
I worked harder.
They found something else wrong.
And I tried again.
The week before Thanksgiving, Graham mentioned that his mother’s oven was malfunctioning.
“Would you mind making the turkey this year?” he asked.
I immediately agreed.
I knew the request meant more work, especially
