My mother always left one light on in the kitchen every night. After she died, I finally understood why.
My mother had one habit I never understood. Every night before going to bed, she would leave the small kitchen light on. Not the hallway light. Not the porch light. Just the little light above the kitchen sink. I used to tell her,
"Mum, you should turn that off." She would smile and say, "I know." Then she'd walk upstairs. I thought she simply forgot. After my mother died, I started cleaning the house. One night, I noticed the kitchen light was still on. Without thinking, I reached for the switch. Then I stopped. I remembered how she always left it on, so I left it. The next morning, I found an old notebook inside the kitchen drawer. It wasn't a diary. It was a list. Every page had a date, and beside each date, she had written one small memory: