I pull out Gram’s recipe book, the one with handwritten recipes filed behind pictures she’s cut out of culinary magazines. The last time we made one of her recipes together, the measurements confused her and I had to take over. She sat in the chair with a cup of tea and watched as I crushed garlic and sautéed onions, and the smells seemed to wrap around me like a warm hug.

This time I prep all the ingredients. I chop the onions, tomatoes, and garlic and put the water on to boil. The egg-and-garlic mixture is folded inside the ricotta. My arms ache as I grate a mountain of mozzarella cheese. When I go get Gram, all she has to do is help me layer the lasagna.

“Oh, Lulu,” she says after tasting my sauce. “This is divine. What a beautiful job you’ve done. Your parents will be so proud.”

“You made the lasagna, Gram,” I insist. “I just helped like I always do. It’s your recipe and you added the basil I forgot. You made it.”

She smiles indulgently. “If you say so.”

I set the timer and start to clean the kitchen. “Promise me, Gram. Promise me you won’t say I made the lasagna.”

Gram frowns, but nods. “If it’s so important to you, my sweet girl, then I won’t tell them. And you know I am proud of you, yes?”

This is one of the reasons I love her so much. No matter what I say or do, she tries to figure me out. I hug her tight and feel the thin bones of her back beneath my hands, the aroma of tomato sauce and onions filling my nostrils. Another memory to file away.

Once the lasagna is in the oven, I leave Clay playing quietly with his trucks and Gram reading in her chair. I run up to my room, back to the mysterious black book.

I lock the door and open the book to the first page. Click. I memorize the pattern of symbols and try several Cyrillic keyboards on my phone. Then I try Google Translate and Bing Microsoft Translator. Both say the same thing.

I blink. My grandmother was born and raised in California. How and, more importantly, why does she have a book handwritten in Russian?

8. Give Me a C

There is a caudate nucleus on each side of the brain. They are shaped like the letter C and are linked to long-term memory and things you do automatically, like read or tie your shoelaces. The brains of those with HSAM have enlarged caudate nuclei. So, basically, my brain is like a really hyper cheerleader shouting out cheers over and over. Each memory triggering another, like C-shaped dominoes.