I made everyone tea and mine went cold

Dear Delyara, One with sugar, one without, one too hot, one in the blue mug because apparently tea tastes different depending on the ceramic if you’re my daughter. I carried them all in, got the biscuits, found the missing remote, answered one question about tomorrow, and when I came back to the kitchen my own tea was already halfway to useless. I drank it anyway. The thing is, I know this is not a tragedy. It’s just one of those tiny repeated patterns that start to feel symbolic after enough years. Everybody else receives the careful version first. Mine arrives later, thinner, colder, fitted into what remains. I don’t even always mind. But I do always notice.