Clara said those words softly as she stared at the neatly arranged bowl sitting on the second shelf of the refrigerator. Each egg looked identical—smooth, spotless, and somehow intimidating. Growing up, Clara had lived in a home where leftovers weren’t exactly trusted, and anything beyond a day old was treated like a daring experiment. Now, living with her mother-in-law, Ruth, meant learning a whole new language of routines, habits, and secrets of the kitchen that Clara never knew existed.
Later that day, Clara found Ruth in the garden, humming lightly as she trimmed her basil plants. The sunlight made Ruth look almost serene, like someone who had all of life’s answers tucked between her recipes and garden tools. Clara approached her with hesitation, finally admitting her concern about the eggs. Ruth laughed gently, wiping dirt from her hands before explaining that she had spent years perfecting little methods to make daily life smoother. Boiling eggs in advance wasn’t a mystery; it was just a habit built from experience. Clara realized then that the real question wasn’t about eggs at all—it was about understanding the quiet wisdom Ruth carried so effortlessly.