Describe something that makes you happy

The thing I want to describe is something quite small and repetitive rather than a big dramatic event, which is the phone call I have with my mother most Sunday mornings while I'm making coffee. It happens almost every week, usually around nine, and it's become such a fixed part of my routine that if it doesn't happen for some reason the whole day feels slightly off afterwards. It's just the two of us, really — my father occasionally shouts something in the background, but the conversation itself is between me and her, usually about nothing especially important: what she's been cooking, some minor drama with a neighbour, whether I'm actually eating properly during the week. What makes it something that genuinely makes me happy, rather than just a habit I keep out of obligation, is a combination of things — the specific smell of coffee that I now associate entirely with her voice on the phone, the sense of unhurried time before the rest of the day starts pulling at me, and honestly just hearing that she's fine, in a fairly ordinary and undramatic way, week after week. It's not an activity I'd describe as exciting to anyone watching from outside; nothing happens, nobody achieves anything. But there's something about that specific, small, recurring half hour that does more for my mood than most of the actually eventful things that happen to me during the rest of the week.