I was finally out of that small cottage, in that small village, full of sanctimonious people with small minds.
I didn’t actually mind the cottage, it was just the proximity to the neighbours I detested. Nosy Mrs. Mead, always hovering around. To think I’d actually caught her, ear to the door, as Mama spoke to Dr. Harris about Papa’s condition! She didn’t flinch. On the contrary, she wagged her haughty finger at me for keeping her in the dark. I was too speechless to respond and too anxious to care.
Papa died a month later. Mama was too heartbroken to even consider leaving, when I gently raised the idea. Too many memories she couldn’t leave behind. I didn’t insist. Mama was old. It was my turn to look after her without complaining.
But there’s just something about mothers that God’s instilled into their hearts, when it comes to their children and putting them first.
Three weeks later she surprised me with two plane tickets to my favorite city. She knew I’d never leave her behind.