Tom wanted to take his mum back to the care home. He glanced at the box before leaving.
After her husband passed, Olive sold her countryside cottage, invested in a flat for her son and his family, and moved in with them. As long as she had strength, she looked after the house and the grandkidsfamily games, school runs, after-school clubs, cooking, and cleaning. The responsibilities never weighed her down. In fact, they made her happy. After all, her family needed her.
But years passed. The grandkids grew up and flew the nest, and Olives health started to fail. She tried washing the dishes, but the plates slipped from her weak hands and smashed. She poured herself some soup but couldnt carry it to the tableit spilled. Shed wake at night for water, and the sound would stir her daughter-in-law. No one wanted to chat with her. Whod want to talk to an old woman, anyway? Her daughter-in-law constantly snapped at her, calling her dead weight. What was Olive supposed to do? Old age isnt a walk in the park. She had no choice but to carry on.
Tom decided it was time to put his mum in a care home.
“At least shell have someone to talk to,” he told himself, easing his guilt. That morning, as they got into the car, Olive remembered her box.
“Tom, fetch my box. I forgot it,” she said quietly.
“What box?” he asked.
“With my treasures,” Olive replied, describing it. Tom brought it out, and the old woman hugged it to her chest, smiling.
“Mum, whats in there?” She opened itinside was a lock of his baby hair and a milk tooth.
Tom stepped back from the car and sat on the kerb. He stayed there a long time, remembering his childhood, how his mum had always been there for himlooking after him, protecting him. She never let him down.
“Tom, are we going?” His mum climbed out of the car and walked over.
“No, Mum. Were not going anywhere. Youre staying home.”
