The aroma of gravy over creamy mashed potatoes

Sipping my tea from the cup for the 7^th time in a row and with a deeply set view on my monitor screen having blinking cursor on a word processor started my day. It was a usual morning with not much of tasks. I hurried to bury my clothes into the washing machine. As I walk pass the pathway noticing boot mud on the racks, I sighed and started cleaning them. Watering the plants that occupied the living space became the typical next. The clock ticked 11 and I could heavily hear the noise of my grumbling stomach. I pushed myself to the kitchen to find some already rotten onions lying bare on the last rack in my shelf. Just before throwing, I looked if some part of those are usable, I sighed. Tossing them into the dustbin, I just sat wondering what to cook. Interrupting, the mobile alarm set for the washing rang from on the table. I hurried to fetch my clothes. Bringing, throwing them into the closet and slamming, I rushed to the kitchen but straight to the fridge this time, to check if I have some left over from yesterdays but surprisingly the aroma of gravy over creamy mashed potatoes lingered. Reheating and serving some on the plate, I got back to the table. The wide windows which sat right next to me threw light on my eyes wanting attention, I stood to pull down the curtains and snuggled back to my cozy spot on the table, as I continue eating, I grabbed my laptop to play some music to escape silence.

I quickly grabbed a spoonful to chew to refrain my overindulgence of flowing thoughts. But still the way the food was cooked just made me remember her. The proportions of masalas and subtle smell of milk did not stop me from thinking about her. It was quiet inevitable as the smell was so strong. 

Suddenly I was pushed to think - What would have happened if I had stayed back there? It would have been a completely different story. But now, what story am I writing here? Does it even make sense?

This time I did not really wanted to think rational. I can just call that very moment as “blessing in disguise” It did no big wonder. It was just an old food. Nothing fancy, just potatoes and some chopped onions(and ofcourse Indian spices). It just told that I would have missed to miss her and everything back there. This feeling did “good” to me. Rather than just understanding, it hit me this time in a different way. I "felt" it rather than just thinking about it.

Now, I understood how even slight smells can sweep you through with many thoughts!