I made herbal soup today. The last time I made any was two months ago. Each time I thought of making soups, the memories came rushing back. That was why I had not made an effort. I cooked my first ever bowl of soup, which was double boiled bird nest soup, for Mum when she was in hospital. I cooked my last bowl of soup for Mum too, which was pork ribs herbal soup when Mum was in hospital, too.
The task of cooking it reminds me too much of Mum. The task of drinking it reminds me of Mum, too. She used to cook them according to my health. If I were feeling heaty, she would make something cooling and vice versa. When I became paralysed initially, she would make Chinese herbal tonics for me everyday using charcoal fire. She had specific soups for every kind of common ailment. It is unfortunate that she had none for curing leukaemia. I miss Mum and her soups.