Making myself a cup of memories

Making myself a cup of tea reminds me how 8 months ago I used to put the the electric kettle on its base with its handle on the right side, while my mother used to put it with the handle on the other side, because she was left handed. I didn't know how to cook, and I seldom made my bed unless she asked me to, and my only way to say that I can be useful was to offer making her some tea every while. I then developed a bad habit. I used to put the kettle on and simply forget it, and usually I found her coming into my room later on, after making me the cup of tea I promised to make.

Later on, after I travelled to England to do my postgraduate degree, I started to learn how to cook different dishes. Although, they are some simple dishes, but I was really happy that I now can promise to make her one of them after I return back home. Spaghetti is the safest option, but come on, that one is very easy. May be, I should try rice with carrots and peas, but that's too cliché. How about a pie? I cannot assure making an edible pie every time, but if I failed, I can make those muffins I learnt to make too as a last-minute compromise.

The very same thoughts come to me every time I make myself I cup of tea. In fact, I can hardly find any detail in my day to day life where she is not present there. I wish we can bring people back to life the same way the tinniest details of our days bring our memories back to life. And I know the day those details will fail to remind me of her is that day I will be dead already.