«Mum, maybe she should go to a care home,» whispered Emily in the hallway.
«Emily, what’s taking you so long? Dinner’s getting cold!» came the irritated voice of David from the kitchen.
Emily Wilson adjusted her mother’s pillow, tucked the blanket snugly around her, and only then replied, «Coming, just coming! I was giving Mum her water so she could take her tablets.»
«Same thing every day,» grumbled her husband when she finally sat at the table. «Pills, doctor visits, changing padsas if we dont have enough to do.»
Emily quietly started on her soup. What could she say? It *was* the same routine every day. It had been eighteen months since theyd brought her mother home after her stroke. Back then, shed thought it was temporaryjust until Mum got back on her feet. But time passed, and Margaret only grew weaker.
«Listen,» David ventured carefully, «have you thought about a care home? They have round-the-clock care, doctors, and»
«Stop it!» Emily snapped. «How can you even suggest that? Shes my *mother*!»
David sighed and didnt bring it up again. Emily finished her soup, silently admitting he was right. She was exhaustedteaching at school drained her, and at home, there was her frail mother, who couldnt be left alone for a minute.
After lunch, while David went to tend the garden, Emily sat by her mothers bedside. Margaret lay with her eyes closed but breathing steadily. Emily took her handthin and cool.
«Mum, how are you? Would you like some tea?»
The old woman slowly opened her eyes and looked at her daughter with a knowing gaze.
«Emily I know Im a burden to you.»
«Mum, dont say that! Youre *not*.»
«Dont lie, love. I see how tired you are. And Davidhes a good man, putting up with me, but its hard on him. Youre still young; you should be living your life, not tending to an old woman.»
Emily felt a lump rise in her throat. Mum had always been sharpillness hadnt changed that.
«Mum, dont think like that. Well manage.»
Margaret gave her daughters hand a faint squeeze.
«Remember when you had scarlet fever as a child? Fever through the roof, deliriousI didnt leave your side for three weeks. Your father said we ought to send you to hospital, but I refused. I thought only I could make you better.»
«I remember, Mum.»
«And when you went off to universityI worried youd forget me. But you came home every weekend, always brought little treats.»
Emily stayed quiet. Memories washed over her painfully. Yes, Mum had always been her rockworking two jobs to put her through school, denying herself everything so Emily would want for nothing.
«Mum, lets not talk about this. You should rest.»
«No, Emily, listen. Ive had time to think these past months. Real love isnt about holding on. Sometimes, its about letting go.»
Just then, little Sophie from next door peeked in. «Auntie Em, can I see Granny Margaret? I picked her some flowers.»
«Of course, sweetheart.»
Sophie bounded over and handed Margaret a bunch of golden marigolds. «These are for you! Theyre like tiny suns.»
Margaret struggled to sit up, accepting the flowers. «Thank you, darling. Youre such a clever girl. Hows school?»
«Good! I know all my letters now. Yesterday, Mum gave me money, and I bought bread and milk all by myself!»
«Well done! Growing up so independent.»
After Sophie left, Emily stayed, holding the marigolds.
«See how confident she is?» Margaret murmured. «Her parents trust herlet her try things. Thats how she learns.»
«What are you saying, Mum?»
«That too much coddling can do harm. Remember Mrs. Clarke down the road? She spoiled her boy rottenhe couldnt boil an egg at forty.»
Emily smiled despite herself. That man *had* been hopelessonly learned to fend for himself after his mother passed.
That evening, as Emily made tea, David sat at the table, flipping through a brochure.
«Whats that?»
«Just looking at care homes. In case.» He tucked it away. «Em, dont be angry. I spoke to Tom todayhis mums in one. Theyve got proper care, trained staff»
«David, stop!»
«Hear me out,» he said firmly. «Im not heartless. I care about Margaret too. But look at youyoure worn to the bone. Works slipping, you barely sleep. When was the last time we even talked properly?»
Emily leaned against the counter. Outside, autumn leaves shimmered. Mum had always loved this seasoncalled it the most beautiful time of year. But this year, she hardly saw it, bedbound most days.
«Im scared shell be miserable there,» Emily admitted. «Shes lived in her own home all her life, surrounded by her things. A care homes so unfamiliar.»
David hugged her. «Do you think its easy for her, watching you struggle? Women understand these things. Maybe *she* wants you to think of yourself for once?»
The next day, Emily came home early. Their neighbour, Mrs. Bennett, met her in the hall.
«Emily, your mums been down all day. Wouldnt even talk when I visited.»
Emily found Margaret turned toward the wall.
«Mum? Would you like tea?»
«Dont want any,» came the muffled reply.
«Whats wrong?»
«I heard you and David last night. About the care home.»
Emily flushed. «Mum, it was just talk»
«Im not deaf. Or daft. I know Ive run you ragged. Davids rightwe must decide something.»
Emilys eyes stung. «Youre *not* leaving.»
«At seventy-eight, Ive lived my life. Yours is still ahead. I wont have you waste it on me.»
«Youre my *mother*!»
«Which is why I *must* let you go.»
That night, Emily lay awake, weighing her mothers words. Was she being selfishkeeping Mum close for her own peace of mind?
The next morning, Margaret surprised her.
«Lets visit that home David mentioned.»
They went that afternoona modern building set in leafy gardens. The manager, a warm woman, showed them around. The rooms were small but cosy, each with a view of the grounds.
«Residents make friends here,» the manager explained. «They play cards, walk in the gardens. Theres a doctor on call, nurses round the clock.»
In the dining room, elderly residents chatted over meals, looking content.
«How often do families visit?» Emily asked.
«As often as they like. Some weekly, some monthly. The key is not to forget them.»
On the drive back, Margaret was quiet. Finally, she said, «Its nice there. The people seem kind.»
At home, as Emily settled her into bed, Margaret took her hand.
«Ive decided. Im moving there.»
«Mum»
«Its my choice. I wont feel like a burden anymore. And youll visitI know you will.»
Emily cried in the hallway. David held her. «Its the right thing. For everyone.»
A week later, they moved Margaret in. Emily helped arrange her photos, her favourite teacup, her knitted blanket.
«Youll be fine, Mum?»
«Of course. Now you take care of yourselfand that good husband of yours.»
As Emily left, Margaret waved from the windowfrail, silver-haired, yet somehow more at ease than shed been at home.
Weeks passed. Emily visited every weekend. Margaret thrivedmaking friends, joining book clubs, even helping others.
«I feel *useful* here,» she confessed once. «I read to my neighbourher eyesights poor. And I helped Mrs. Edwards write to her grandsonher hands shake.»
Emily realised her mother had been right. Here, she wasnt a burdenshe was needed.
At home, life improved. Emily slept better, reconnected with David. They even took a seaside holidaytheir first in years.
One visit, Emily bumped into Mrs. Carter, an old neighbour.
«Emily! I had no idea your mum was here. Weve become friendsshes the life of the place!»
Leaving that day, Emily hugged her mother. «You were right. This was best.»
Margaret smiled. «Real love, loveits not about clinging. Its setting each other free to be happy.»
Walking home, Emily let the lesson sink in. One day, shed have to let her own children goand that, too, would be love.
Golden leaves crunched underfoot as she walked, finally able to see the beauty in letting go.
