The weighing scale sat in the centre surrounded by jars of flour and sugar and cups of dried fruits, yet something was missing. It didn’t feel the same without her. Every year they had shared a mother daughter ritual of making the family Christmas cakes.
She wanted to open the windows and let the sunlight come in but the darkened room seemed to match her mood. She started measuring the flour while she hummed an old radio jingle.
“Mommy can I help?” Her 7 year old daughter asked from the doorway.
Penny smiled and nodded, a new ritual was beginning.