28October2025
Dear Diary,
Last night I hosted what I thought would be a proper family feast at the cottage in Kent. Id spent the whole afternoon in the kitchen, arranging a massive salad bowl on the long oak table, hoping to impress everyone. The guests arrived, full of chatter and appetite, and I tried to keep the atmosphere light.
Alright, loves, have you had enough to eat? Have you had enough to drink? Did I manage to treat you well? I asked, standing at the head of the table.
Absolutely, sister, said Bernard, wiping his mouth with a grin. Youre always on point!
Exactly! added Emily, nodding. We learned to cook together when we were kids, but nothing ever tastes as good as yours. Thats why I always ask you to cater my celebrations!
My dear, Im still stuck in the gym, murmured Claire, glancing at her phone. But I couldnt stay away!
And Ill send you a wife to learn cooking from you, joked Andrew, raising his glass.
Thats why I married you, Victor, Victor boomed, chuckling and then, a little too loudly, Pardon us!
I laughed, Looks like Ive pleased you! My smile widened, then, as if a switch had been flipped, it faded. Now, my dears, pleaseexit my house! I announced, pausing for effect. This is the last dinner Ill ever prepare for you! Im done serving you, and I dont want to see or hear from you again!
In a fit of fury, I grabbed the hefty salad bowl and flung it to the floor, shattering it with a crash that echoed through the dining room.
Enough, you little brats! The dancing is over, I snarled, the smile gone. I wont let anyone ride on my back any longerespecially you lot!
A heavy silence fell. No one expected such a outburst from me, the calm, helpful, everobedient husbands brother.
Are you serious? Victor asked, his voice trembling.
He got an instant slap from his wife for the question.
Call an ambulance; shes having a mental break! shouted Emily.
I lifted the empty decanter, its remnants of juice sloshing. Anyone who reaches for the phone will get a taste of it! I said, trying to sound menacing while still oddly amused. Why are you all frozen? Get away, you insatiable gremlins!
Poppy! Bernard barked. Im speaking to you as your older brothercalm down and pull yourself together!
No! I replied, still smiling. Im done being your servant! I wont please you, I wont run around like a headless chicken because some of you cant do anything yourselves! Thats itenough!
What happened to you, Poppy? Everything was fine! Victor said, rubbing his reddened cheek.
I didnt call this gathering for nothing, I said, sinking into my chair. Your arrogance has crossed every line, and its taken ages to get here. This final protest shows just how far youve overstepped. I wont have you in my life any longer.
But we didnt do anything, Andrew tried to defend himself.
Exactly, son! Victor retorted.
—
People always say you have to live your life correctly, but what does correctly even mean? Everyone has a different answer. Ive spent fortyfive years convinced I was doing everything right. I was the third child, the second daughter, a dutiful son, a hardworking man. I never aimed for fame, but I never shied away from a good, honest job either.
I married, had two children, and tried to be a loyal, loving husband who never raised his voice without cause. I was a decent father, sending the kids off to school and watching them grow. I kept in touch with my brother and sister, offering help when needed, celebrating birthdays, sharing troubles, and rejoicing in triumphs. People called me kind, considerate, smart, and understanding. Thats why I believed Id lived a proper lifeuntil that fateful evening when I realized how utterly abandoned I could feel.
—
Later that afternoon, Dr. OLeary knocked on my door.
All the tests are back, no contraindications. Shall we schedule the operation? he asked.
Of course, doctor, I replied, my voice heavy. The decisions already made.
He noted my despondency. Well get you on the table as soon as possible. Tonight youll have dinner; tomorrow youll fast; the day after, the surgery.
He turned to my neighbour, Mrs. Carter, who shared the ward.
Your results arent great, Mrs. Carter. Well have to look into it, he said.
She responded politely, then asked me, Why so gloomy? Afraid of the operation?
I admitted, My husband I glanced at my phone, is still
Mrs. Carter chuckled, My husband left with his mates, singing all night. I suppose hell sort himself out later.
I tightened my lips. He knows Im going under the knife. He should at least offer some support, not drown himself in drinks with his friends.
She waved it off. Everyones like that, love. Cats out, mice dancing.
Even so, it hurt. Removal of my uterus is no small thing. I needed his support, but after I left for the hospital he sent only two brief messages and then fell silent.
Claire, ten years younger than me, tried to cheer me up, but her inexperience left us both speechless. I didnt eat at the hospital, knowing Id need to fast before the procedure. I stared at the ceiling, remembering the time when my friend Vasili broke his leg in two places at work. I used to drive him home every day, bringing homecooked meals, clean clothes, staying until late. When he finally left the ward, I took a short leave to care for himlike a squirrel on a wheel, never stopping. I never refused him a drink, a spoonful, a wash, a shave, or a stroke.
Why does he treat me like this? I asked Mrs. Carter when she returned from lunch.
Because hes like all the restconsumers, always leaning on the older generation, she replied. They teach them to sit on your lap as if youre a chair.
I tried to push him with threats of divorce and maintenance, but he never budged. My work is fine, I whispered to myself. His indulgence is differentexploitation. If you dont tie them down early, theyll sit on your neck and run off later.
Maybe Im overreacting, I wondered, nervous about the operation, and thats why Im spiralling.
Nothing prevents one thing from happening alongside another, Mrs. Carter said. I hear nothing kind from himjust the occasional fruit juice delivery and a quick text.
I pulled the blanket over my head and stared at my phone. The day passed, and I tried to distract myself with conversation, but the nurses kept pulling me for tests. The calls from my children never came. My son Andrew didnt answer; he sent a text promising to call back. My daughter Claire tried twice, then the number went dead.
Good kids, I muttered, bewildered. They wont even pick up the phone for their mother?
Adults now live on their own, Mrs. Carter replied, sighing. Theyll only show up when they need somethinga favour, money, a place to stay.
Dont they remember the years I gave them? I asked, feeling the sting.
No, mum, theyve flown out of the nest. Only the wind will carry them back, she said.
My eldest, now sixteen, doesnt even think of me. If theyre living separately, why bother with parents? Maybe theyll only show up for a funeral.
I tried to defend the situation: Our relationship is great! I told myself. So why wont they answer?
Why not? she asked, before hurrying off.
The operation went ahead without complications, but the doctors kept me in the hospital for another two weeks. I refused to call anyone; I waited for someone to remember me. No one didno husband, no children, no brother, no sister.
—
At last, Bernard burst into the ward, looking flustered.
Poppy, are you okay? he asked.
Hardly, I replied.
I thought back to the months I spent shuttling between two houses after his wife left him, caring for his children, acting as mother, cook, cleaner, and everything else until he found a new partner. I had tried to smooth over his conflicts, but his new wife demanded love for her own kids, while I only wanted love for mine. Id spent a year and a half mediating with no gratitude.
When I finally called him that evening, all I heard were brief beeps and then silence.
Thanks for the black list, brother! I muttered.
He knew about my operation, but when he asked to take the kids for a month, I refused, citing my surgery.
Emily gave me only five minutes of attention, asking about my recovery so she could plan accommodation for a dozen relatives of her husband. Will you be able to help feed them? she demanded. Were counting on you!
I dont know, Emily, I said, the operation is serious. Ill be in the hospital for a few weeks, then a couple of months to recover. Doctors say up to fifty days.
Dont be a coward! she snapped. We need you in three weeks, like a welloiled machine!
My fear is real, I admitted.
She laughed, Fine, Im off!
It was infuriating. Is the operation just a routine thing? Complications could arise! I thought, glancing at my phone. Im not even a decent cook, yet they expect me to feed a crowd.
The surgery was finally over, and I stayed two extra weeks to recover. I didnt call anyone. I waited for a sign of concern, but none came.
—
Whats the matter, Poppy? Did they take your brain with the uterus? Bernard teased.
Yes, they did! I laughed, surprised that anyone still remembered me.
I stood again at the head of the table, this time in my own living room.
Listen up, my dear relatives! Ive been in hospital for two weeks and not a single soul bothered to check on me! I shouted. No brother who loves me more than his new wife, no sister who used me as a free kitchen, no husband who squandered our savings and vanished when we needed him. Not even my children called!
A murmur rose from the crowd. Ive always been ready to do everything for you. The moment I needed a simple gesture of support, you were nowhere. I thought I could survive on my own, but I wont be running errands for you any longer.
I named them one by one.
Vasili, youre out of my flat, fine! Children, live your livescall Dad if you need anything. And you, Bernard and Emily, Ill hire nannies and cooks elsewhere. Enough!
Voices rose in protest. Are you out of your mind? they shouted.
But I stood firm, ordering everyone to line up and leave my life forever.
When the room finally emptied, I sat down at the cleared table, looking at the shattered salad bowl.
I had overreacted, but the broken bowl felt like a fresh start. I will begin a new life with a new bowlone that I choose myself.
Lesson learned: you cant keep giving everything away and expect anything in return. Its better to set boundaries, cherish yourself, and let others find their own way.
