“Oh, Sophie, hello! Come to see your mum?” called the neighbour from her balcony.
“Hello, Mrs. Whitmore. Yes, just visiting Mum.”
“You ought to have a word with her,” the woman sighed. “Poor thing’s been all over the place since the divorce.”
“What do you mean?” Sophie tensed.
“Well, I’ve got insomnia—wake up early most days. The other morning, it was barely five, and I look out to see a cab pull up. Out steps your mother, looking… well, not her usual self, let’s say. And a bit worse for wear, if you catch my drift. The whole neighbourhood’s gossiping. At her age! And why on earth did she go and kick your father out? Sure, he slipped up, but who doesn’t? Forty years together—seems daft to throw it all away now.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Whitmore,” Sophie managed, swallowing hard. “I’ll talk to her.”
With that, she hurried inside. Her mother had indeed thrown her father out six months ago after catching him cheating. Sophie had begged her to slow down—these things happen, she’d said. But her mother had been firm. The oddest part? She didn’t sink into gloom like you’d expect. Quite the opposite—she’d thrown herself into life. New clothes, dance classes, nights out with the girls—none of which she’d ever done before.
Sophie couldn’t make sense of it. She herself was about to marry, planning for kids. And here was her mother, out till dawn? What sort of grandmother would she be? How do you introduce her to the in-laws when one’s knitting blankets and the other’s dancing on tables?
When Sophie stepped inside, her mother greeted her with a teapot in hand and a bright smile. Gone was the frayed dressing gown—instead, she wore a smart beige suit. Manicure, pedicure, eyelash extensions—clearly, she was enjoying herself.
“So, how’s Robert?” she asked, setting down the cups.
“He’s fine,” Sophie said, holding back. “And you?”
“Oh, brilliant! Last night, the girls and I stayed out till sunrise—dancing, then karaoke. What a laugh!”
“Mrs. Whitmore’s already filled me in,” Sophie muttered. “Said you rolled in at five, looking a bit worse for wear.”
Her mother laughed. “Well, what did you expect? Sipping tea in a pub?”
Sophie couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Mum, don’t you think this is a bit much?”
“How so?”
“Putting it mildly, you’re not twenty anymore. Clubs? Dancing? You’re meant to be setting an example. You’re practically a grandmother!”
“I’m a woman who’s finally free. And I won’t live by anyone else’s rules.”
“But you spent decades with Dad! How can you just erase all that?”
Her mother paused, then said calmly but firmly, “Your father betrayed me. That wasn’t a mistake—it was a choice. And I’m done being the family’s caretaker. I want to *live*. For myself. I spent years doing everything for others. Now? No one dictates my life.”
“But you’re nearly fifty!”
“So? I don’t age on a timetable.”
Sophie realised she’d gone too far. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just worry.”
“If you’re ashamed of me, don’t invite me to the wedding. But know this—I won’t hide my grey hair under a scarf or wear some frumpy dress. I’ll dance, maybe even flirt. I’m happy.”
“No, Mum, I want you there. It’s just…”
“Just Auntie Whitmore wouldn’t approve? Let her disapprove. I’m finally *living*.”
Back home, Sophie told Robert everything.
“I don’t know how to feel about it.”
Robert just laughed. “I think your mum’s brilliant. She didn’t wallow—she chose life. Since when is happiness a crime?”
That weekend, Sophie rang her mother.
“Mum, fancy a spa day, then cocktails with live music?”
“You won’t be embarrassed?”
“I’ll say you’re my older sister,” Sophie teased.
“Deal. But no early curfew.”
That day changed everything. Sophie finally saw the strength in her mother—and realised maybe she could learn from her. Not to live ‘as expected’, but as she pleased.
