Power of a Dish Towel

I had the weirdest memory this morning. I got up at 5:30 a.m. to bake challah for tonight. The recipes says to cover the bowl with saran wrap and a clean dish towel. I remember my Bubba baking and covering her dough with a dish towel. I suddenly felt a strong connection to the past and to another generation. I have vague memories of watching her work with dough. I think she baked yeast doughs fairly often. I wonder what she was thinking while she was doing it. Did it bring her pleasure to bake for her family? Did it relax her? Did she even think while she was doing it? Did she have a motivation? I never felt like I knew my mother's mother. She always seemed vaguely dissatisfied, or maybe not so vaguely dissatisfied. Maybe just unhappy. I think she had a very sad life. Whatever the case may be, I like to think she found some pleasure in making the dough and baking for her family.