Waking up, I smell the sweet incense. It’s a unique sweetness that possesses me and puts me in a reverie. I remember waking up, having those cupcakes beside my bed; Mom, I miss her and her rituals.
But today, I woke up harshly, smelling that same sweetness that possessed and tempted my childhood memories. I woke up and ran into the kitchen. And there she stood. Fragile and tiny, a tear rolls down my cheeks and I lean on the wall, watching her from corner of the kitchen.
Her smile is tangled with the same happiness and mischief. She turns her head and smiles brightly at me.
“Oh, you’re up, I missed that. I forgot to keep the cupcakes near your bed. Anyway, merry Christmas, darling.” I’m lost for words. She comes around and hugs me with her oversized oven mittens.
She carries my mother’s eyes. But mostly importantly, my sister carries my mother’s legacy.
~ Saurabh Kokan | Edited by Afreen Zeb