Dear Diary,
This morning I asked, Mum is there truly nothing left to eat today? My voice trembled like a leaf in a gust, and Andrews wide eyes searched my face for an answer. The look in his gaze broke my heart more than any hunger could.
No, Andrew theres nothing, I whispered, pulling him close as if my arms could shield him from the whole world. Perhaps well find something along the way.
He broke down in tears. In that instant the chill of the house and the cold of the streets seemed to squeeze my heart. Every day feels like a battle for survival; each step is a gamble not to fall.
Outside, the world is drab and worn. The rows of terraced houses have peeling paint, broken fences, grimy windowseverything looks as exhausted as we feel. By a crooked lamppost stands Victor, an old friend, his eyes empty.
Eleanor, how much longer can you endure this poverty? he asked, his tone bitter.
As long as Andrew needs me, I replied calmly, though pain rang in my voice. If I give up, hell have no future.
The walk to the market is hard. Neighbours stare sideways, children whine from hunger, stray dogs rummage through bins. On a corner sits a shivering little girl in tattered clothes, eyes wide with fear. I stopped, handed her a few sprigs of parsley and a boiled egg. She sobbed silently, and I felt her pain become my own.
Thank you I dont know how to repay you, she whispered.
No need. Just look after yourself, I said, wiping away my tear.
At the market everyone hurried, buying only the essentials. A biting wind cut through my thin sweater, making my hands numb. Suddenly I spotted a crumpled piece of paper on the ground, tucked under peoples feeta notice of eviction. My heart sank. If we dont pay within two days, well be out on the street.
No we cant lose everything, I muttered, clutching the paper like a last sliver of hope.
On the way back, Mr. Hargreaves, the landlord, stopped me.
Eleanor, you cant keep living here without paying. I cant keep covering you forever, he said coldly.
I know Im looking for work, trying to earn, I replied.
Do it faster. Youll have to leave by tomorrow.
That night the cold seeped even through the blankets. I held Andrew close to warm him, but my own body shivered. He fell asleep with tears on his cheeks, and I sat in the darkness, unable to sleep from fear.
The next day desperation became unbearable. The landlord threatened to return at dawn, and we had no money at all. I sold everything I could, but the sum barely bought a loaf of bread.
Eleanor, what now? Victor asked, coming to help. Were out of options
Well ask for assistance just hope they dont turn away, I whispered, looking down.
That night I drifted off hungry, frozen, exhausted. I dreamed of a house without walls and a child reaching for me, but I couldnt grasp him.
I didnt give up. At sunrise I went out looking for any worksweeping yards, selling vegetables, cleaning neighbours windows. Days melted into fatigue, yet every penny I slipped into the old coffee tin felt like a tiny candle of hope.
Andrew grew beside me, watching everything. At school he was mocked for his threadbare clothes and battered notebook. I taught him to look beyond what people saw:
Andrew, dont listen to them. A persons worth isnt in what they own, but in what they give.
Years passed. Andrew studied hard, chased every chance. From meagre wages he paid extra lessons, learned English, maths, stayed up reading late into the night. I supported him even when my own legs gave out from exhaustion.
When he finally won his first science olympiad, I wept with joy. It was the first ray of light after a long darkness. Yet the struggle continued. University demanded fees, the commute took stamina. Andrew took parttime jobs to afford textbooks, travel cards, everything he needed.
It was toughstern professors, indifferent strangers, sleepless nights. Still, he never quit. Each fall taught him to rise without fear. Meanwhile I kept sending parcels, letters, small sumsliving only for him.
Time flew. Andrew graduated with honours and earned a scholarship abroad. Letting him go hurt, but my heart whispered, Now he can truly soar.
When he returned, he was different: confident, strong, successful. He started his own firm, helped others, yet never forgot where he came from.
One afternoon he took my hands in his and said, Mum everything I have is because of you.
Tears filled my eyes.
I was just doing what a mother must, I replied softly.
He handed me the keys to a new housewarm, bright, free of fear and cold.
This is yours, Mum. Youll never be cold again, he said.
I sank onto the soft sofa, surveyed the room, and finally felt peace. After so many years of fighting, warmth returned to my life. In Andrews eyes I saw the greatest rewardgratitude.
I love you, Mum, he said.
And I love you, my son, I answered, smiling. Im prouder of you than anything in the world.
From the ashes of our pain, hope has risen. A mothers love didnt just save a childit forged a person. Even on the darkest days it proved that true light lives inside those who never give up.
