Just relaxing amid the fluffy pillows with a book in hand, the cool, crisp air was flowing in through the open window, causing me to feel a chill. Putting the book down, I got up, padding on the marble floor with naked feet resulting in a chill travelling across my spine. Closing the windows, I pushed forward the curtains. Skipping back to the comfort of the pillows, I popped in and returned to my reading. Tossing and turning, I was able to complete my topic for study, which was definitely not pleasant anymore. I lost my comfortable position in the pillows when I got up to close the windows, and now no matter how much I turn and toss, I wasn't able to get it back, but thankfully I was done studying for today.
Knowing I wouldn't get the comfortable spot anymore, I got up, putting the book back on my bedside table. Stretching for a few minutes, I went ahead to sort out the mess of pillows that I had created. Grabbing the pillows one by one, I put them back on the bed, arranging them neatly. The extra pillows went back in the closet. Once done with the pillows, I grabbed the rug that lay on the floor on which the pillows were lying before, dusting it and rolling it neatly, I put it back with the other rugs.
Heading to the kitchen to grab a warm drink, my eyes glanced at the time shown by the grandfather clock in the lounge. Standing in the warm kitchen with my mom in a yellow apron, cooking was a welcoming and comforting sight. Giving my mom a tight hug, I peeked into what she was cooking for dinner, but she shooed me away, saying it is a surprise. Pouting like a naughty kid who got caught while stealing cookies, I grabbed the carton of milk. Leaving it to warm, I opened the shelf where all my favorite mugs were lined neatly.
Just opening the shelf, I was hit by various different styles, making me feel as if I was in an art studio appreciating and admiring the options in front of me. Starting from the left side were colorful pops and lovely cartoon characters, thus making me feel like a young kid and raising my spirits. Moving to the middle, where rows of mugs with pastel tones and motivating messages were present, making me feel like a teenager who needed a kind reminder in a cruel world. The right side was bright, the mugs lying there were sparkling from the sunlight reflected on them, these luxury styled cups made me feel as if I was at a high-end party or having a royal tea. Finally, after looking and pondering, I grabbed the bright yellow mug with sunflowers drawn at the bottom. It was reminding me of my mom wearing a yellow apron and reminding me of being her little girl. Smiling to myself, I grabbed the mug, closed the shelf, rinsed the cup, turned off the stove, and poured the warm milk in the mug. Adding in a scoop of Horlicks powder, I mixed it thoroughly. Sitting on the chair, I enjoyed the milk while trying to guess what my mom was cooking.
Trying to guess by seeing the ingredients lying around was a futile effort, as my mom had already cleaned the kitchen counter meticulously. Trying to see the stove from here was another futile attempt with the way my mom was hoarding the stove. The drawback of multiple dishes being cooked together is that you are not able to distinguish a particular scent. Putting the washed mug away, I waited patiently for the delicious dinner surprise from my mom.
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Comments (1)
This is really lovely. Nobody else can tell a story of this kind quite as well as you do! What I enjoy most about your writing is that you always see what's special in events that happen every day, and you gently help the reader see this too in a way that leaves the warmest glow. The range of different experiences in this one also keeps us reading! The fidgets at the start are surely familiar to us all, and I like the touches of humour as you struggle to find a comfortable spot and muddle up the pillows in the process. After that, you remind the reader of something I've always believed, that there's nothing more heart-warmingly nostalgic than looking over things from long ago! A cup collection is a prime example. It's really masterful how, in your customary quiet and unassuming way, you talk us through memories of most of your life just by describing these drinking vessels. In the process we glimpse you as a wide-eyed child, a troubled teen and a very little girl. All of growing up is there in that kitchen cabinet, waiting to be revisited. Your mother is very clever, by the way, and I already know that if she wants to keep dinner a surprise, that's how it'll stay! But there is the final point I love about this story - we don't need to know. It's a brilliant finishing touch that we end on you wondering! We the readers share in this mystery with you, which is exciting but never worrying, because the most beautiful thing is the confidence that whatever the dinner turns out to be, it will indeed be delicious. That kind of faith in a good mother's cooking is the most precious thing of all!