Life is full of surprises.
Margaret had been married for just four years when her husband left, abandoning her and their daughter. After that, they never saw him again. Even during those four years, he was rarely home—always disappearing somewhere with his friends.
For a long time, Margaret lived alone, grew accustomed to solitude, and worked two jobs to provide for her daughter, Emily. Emily did well in school, and before Margaret knew it, her daughter had grown up and married.
“Mum, I’m moving to London. I’ll study remotely and work—it’ll be easier for you,” Emily declared confidently before leaving.
Emily achieved everything on her own. The wedding was in London. Margaret attended, pleased with the celebration—her son-in-law was lovely, Emily was happy, and the day was joyful. Life improved for Margaret, but sadness crept in more often.
“Everything happened so fast—my Emily flew the nest, got married, and now I have a grandchild, but they’re so far away. The house feels empty, as if my purpose is gone. Work kept me busy, but after redundancy, everything became dull. Now I need a new job.”
She searched, but whenever her age came up, employers politely turned her down. She called Emily to complain.
“Love, seriously, who wants to hire an old woman?”
“Mum, you’re not old! You’re gorgeous—don’t talk like that!” Emily protested. “If you won’t find a man, then love yourself. You ignore your own needs. You’ve got years ahead—cherish them.”
Margaret worked temporary jobs before early retirement. She dwelled on Emily’s words: *Where would she find a decent man at her age?* Even unmarried ones had children, grandchildren, and baggage. Some just wanted a housekeeper.
She wasn’t interested in remarrying. A friend for cinema trips or woodland walks would be nice—but no strangers wasting her precious time. “I’ll find something fulfilling. Emily’s right—I must love myself.”
One day, she bumped into an old classmate, Helen, outside the supermarket.
“Margaret? Is that you?”
Helen beamed. “You look wonderful!”
“You’re glowing yourself,” Margaret noted. “How do you stay so happy? Didn’t your husband pass years ago? Doesn’t loneliness weigh on you?”
“At first, yes. But I took up ballroom dancing—it’s brilliant! You loved dancing, didn’t you? Join our club!”
Margaret did. She danced, took up ribbon embroidery, and even attended over-50s park discos. Life brightened—no more boredom, just connection. Yet she always returned home alone. Adventure didn’t tempt her, but she’d rediscovered joy in living. *Better late than never.*
Emily was allergic to cats, so Margaret never had one, though she adored them. Once alone, she took in a stray—Timothy, a magnificent tom who followed her devotedly, purring affectionately. Neighbours either smiled or scowled.
“Let them glare,” the caretaker shrugged. “People differ—I feed strays myself.”
Margaret lived on the ground floor. One rainy evening, the caretaker rapped her window. “Someone’s sleeping by your door!”
Margaret hurried over. A dishevelled man lay curled on her doormat, trembling under a grubby cap. No alcohol scent—just cold desperation. Hesitant, she nudged him awake.
“Please—just let me rest. I mean no harm,” he rasped.
Against instinct, she coaxed him inside, lent him her son-in-law’s clothes, and served leftover pasta, apple pie, and tea.
“What’s your name? Where are you from?”
“I… don’t remember anything. Not even my name.”
Doubt gnawed at her. *Should I call the police?* But his pleading gaze stopped her. Exhausted, she offered the sofa. “We’ll sort this tomorrow.”
Fear kept her awake. But at dawn, clattering pans startled her. The stranger—cleaner now—had made cheese pancakes and coffee.
“Sorry—I found ingredients. Eat while it’s hot.”
Stunned, she studied him: decent-looking, skilled. “You can’t recall anything… yet cook this well?”
“My hands remember, even if my mind doesn’t.” He fiddled with his cup. “I should report to the police.”
At the station, officers showed his photo—a missing businessman named Edward from Manchester, owner of a café chain. His deputy had raised the alarm after he vanished during expansion plans.
Margaret’s heart sank as Edward prepared to leave, borrowing travel money with a promise to repay double. He did—then silence. Gloom returned. Dancing lost its charm; abandoned embroidery gathered dust.
Three months later, she’d resigned herself. *I’m too old for miracles,* she thought, sighing at the doormat.
Then, days before New Year’s, the bell rang. Edward stood there, roses in hand. “Didn’t dare lie on the mat—but I missed you terribly.”
He cooked dinner, recounting his ordeal: ambushed by rivals (and his treacherous ex-wife) after a deal, left for dead with amnesia. Recovery took months. Now, he’d handed the business to his sons and moved back.
“Margaret,” he murmured, gripping her hand. “I knew you’d refuse to relocate—so I came to you. Marry me. I’ve no doubt you’ll stand by me, come what may. If you refuse… I’ll camp on that mat forever.”
Tears welled. Life’s greatest gifts arrive unannounced—sometimes right on your doorstep.
**Lesson:** Kindness opens doors to unexpected blessings. What you give often returns when you least anticipate it.
