«Mum, maybe she should go to the care home,» whispered the daughter in the hallway.
«Emily, whats taking you so long? Dinners getting cold!» came the irritated voice of Steven from the kitchen.
Emily Wilson adjusted the pillow behind her mother, tucked the blanket snugly around her, and only then replied,
«Coming, just coming! I was helping Mum with her watershe needed her tablets.»
«Same thing every day,» muttered her husband when she finally sat at the table. «Pills, doctors, changing pads. As if theres nothing else to do.»
Emily silently picked up her spoon and started on the soup. What could she say? It *was* the same every day. For the past year and a half, since her mothers stroke, she had been living with them. Back then, it seemed temporaryjust until she got back on her feet. But time passed, and Margaret only grew weaker.
«Listen,» Steven began cautiously, «have you thought about a care home? They have round-the-clock care, doctors, and»
«Stop it!» Emily cut him off sharply. «How can you even suggest that? Shes my *mother*!»
Steven sighed and didnt bring it up again. Emily finished her soup, thinking that, deep down, he was right. She could feel herself wearing thin. Teaching took its toll, and at home, her mother needed constant attention.
Later, when Steven had gone to the allotment, Emily sat by her mothers side. Margaret lay with her eyes closed, breathing softly. Emily took her handthin, cool to the touch.
«Mum, how are you? Fancy a cuppa?»
The elderly woman slowly opened her eyes and gazed at her daughter for a long moment.
«Emmy I know Im a burden.»
«Mum, dont say that! Youre *not* a burden.»
«Dont pretend, love. I see how tired you are. And Stevenhes a good man, putting up with me, but its hard on him. Youre still young; you should be living, not looking after an old woman.»
Emily felt a lump rise in her throat. Mum had always been perceptive, and illness hadnt changed that.
«Mum, dont think like that. Well manage.»
Margaret gave her daughters hand a weak squeeze.
«Remember when you had scarlet fever as a child? Fever so high you were delirious. I didnt leave your side for three weeks. Your dad said we should take you to hospital, but I wouldnt let you go. Thought youd only get better at home, with me.»
«I remember, Mum.»
«And when you went off to uni, I worried youd forget me. But you came home every weekend, always bringing little treats.»
Emily stayed silent. Memories washed over herMum had always been her rock, working two jobs to put her through school, never spending a penny on herself so Emily would want for nothing.
«Mum, lets not talk about this. You should rest.»
«No, Emmy, listen. Ive had time to think. Real love isnt about holding on tightsometimes its about letting go.»
Just then, little Lucy from next door peeked in.
«Auntie Em, can I see Granny Maggie? I picked her some flowers!»
«Of course, sweetheart.»
Lucy bounded to the bed, holding out a handful of golden marigolds.
«These are for you! Theyre like tiny suns!»
Margaret struggled to sit up but took the flowers with a smile.
«Thank you, love. Youre such a clever girl. Hows school?»
«Good! I know all my letters now, and I can read. Yesterday Mum gave me money, and I bought bread and milk *all by myself*!»
«Well done! Growing up so clever and independent.»
After Lucy skipped off, Emily stayed beside her mother, turning the marigolds in her hands.
«See how bright she is,» Margaret said softly. «Her parents trust her, let her learn. Thats how confidence grows.»
«What are you saying, Mum?»
«That too much holding on can do harm. Remember Auntie Joan from down the road? She coddled her boy so much he couldnt boil an egg at forty.»
Emily smiled despite herself. That boy had been hopeless until Joan passed.
That evening, while making tea, she found Steven at the table, reading a brochure.
«Whats that?»
«Just looking at care homes. In case.» He tucked it away. «Em, dont be angry. But I spoke to Dave todayhis mums in one. Said the staff are brilliant»
«Steven, *stop*!»
«Hear me out!» he snapped. «Im not a monster. I care about Margaret too. But look at youyoure exhausted. Works noticing youre distracted. When was the last time you slept properly? Or talked to me like we used to?»
Emily leaned against the counter. Outside, leaves were turning goldMums favourite season. But this year, she barely saw it.
«Im scared shell be miserable there,» Emily admitted. «Her whole lifes been in her own home, with her things. There, its strangers, strange walls.»
Steven came over, resting a hand on her shoulder.
«Dont you think it hurts her, seeing you struggle? Women understand these things. Maybe she *wants* you to think of yourself for once?»
The next day, Emily came home early. Neighbour Mrs. Wilkins stopped her in the hall.
«Em, your mums been ever so quiet today. Wouldnt even chat when I popped in.»
Emily found Margaret turned toward the wall.
«Mum, how are you? Tea?»
«Dont want any.»
«Whats wrong?»
«Everything. Just lying here, useless, making life hard for everyone.»
Emily sat on the bed.
«Mum, whats happened? We talked fine yesterday.»
Margaret turned slowly.
«Emmy, I heard you and Steven last night. About the care home.»
Emily flushed.
«Mum, it was just talk»
«Im not deaf. Or daft. Ive run you ragged. Hes rightsomethings got to change.»
Emilys eyes stung.
«Youre *not* going anywhere. Well manage.»
«Manage? Be *happy*? Im seventy-eight, love. Ive lived my life. Yours is still ahead. I wont have you waste it on me.»
«Dont say that!»
«Its the truth. You should be travelling with Steven, spoiling grandkids. Not changing my pads.»
Emily broke down. Margaret handed her a tissue.
«Dont cry, love. Youve been wonderful. But sometimes loving someone means letting go.»
«*How*? Youre my *mother*!»
«Exactly. So let me go. Maybe there, with people my age, Ill have company. Here, I just stare at walls.»
That night, Emily lay awake, listening to Stevens steady breathing, turning her mothers words over. Was she being selfish? Keeping Mum close for her own peace of mind?
In the morning, she checked on Margaret.
«How did you sleep?»
«Poorly. Thinking. Em, lets visit that place Steven mentioned.»
«Mum»
«Just look. Then well decide.»
After work, they went. The home was set in leafy grounds, modern and bright. The manager, a warm woman in her forties, showed them around.
The rooms were small but cosybed, nightstand, armchair, windows overlooking the garden.
«Residents often make friends,» the manager explained. «They walk, play chess. Weve a library, TV lounge. A doctor visits daily, nurses are always here.»
In the dining room, elderly residents chatted over meals. They looked content.
«How often do families visit?» Emily asked.
«Some weekly, some monthly. The important thing is they *do*.»
On the drive back, Margaret was quiet. Only as they pulled up did she speak.
«Its nice there. The people seem kind.»
That evening, once Margaret was settled, she took Emilys hand.
«Emmy, Ive made up my mind. Im moving there.»
«Mum»
«Its my choice. I wont feel like a burden. And youll visitI know you will.»
«Every weekend.»
«Good. Now, let me rest. Call them tomorrow.»
In the hall, Emily wept silently. Steven found her, holding her close.
«Dont cry. This is right.»
«I know. But it hurts.»
«Mum, she should go,» Emily whispered the next morning as Steven left for work.
He kissed her forehead. «Youll see. Itll be better for everyone.»
A week later, they moved Margaret in. Emily helped arrange her thingsphotos, her favourite teacup, a warm throw.
«All settled, Mum?»
«Course I am. Now, you look after yourself. And Stevenhes a good man.»
As Emily left, Margaret stood at the window, wavingfrail, silver-haired, but somehow more at peace than shed been at home.
Time passed. Emily visited every weekend, sometimes with Steven. Margaret spoke of new friends, garden walks, books from the library. Shed come alive again.
«You know,» she admitted once, «I feel *useful* here. I read to my neighbourher eyes are going. Yesterday I helped write a letter for Maryher hands shake.»
Emily listened, realising Mum had been right. Here, she wasnt a burdenshe could still *help*.
At home, life changed too. Emily slept properly, focused better at work, went to the theatre with Steven. They even took a seaside holidaytheir first in years.
One visit, Emily bumped into a familiar faceSandra from their old street.
«Em! I didnt know your mum was here! Were thick as thieves now.»
«How is she?»
«Brilliant! Better than half of us. Always cheering people up. Proper life of the place!»
Emily smiled. Mum had always been lively. Here, she could be herself again.
That evening, as they said goodbye, Emily whispered,
«You were right, Mum. This was the best thing.»
Margaret patted her hand.
«I knew youd understand, love. Real love isnt chainsits setting someone free to be happy.»
On the drive home, Emily turned the words over. One day, shed need to let her own children go, too. That would be love as well.
Autumn gilded the trees, and for the first time in years, Emily truly saw its beauty.
