**Diary Entry**
“Oh, Emily, hello! Visiting your mum?” Mrs. Thompson called from her balcony.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Thompson. Yes, just popped round to see her.”
“You might want to have a word,” the neighbour sighed. “Shes been different since the divorce, poor love.”
“What do you mean?” Emily tensed.
“Ive been waking earlyaround fiveand saw her hopping out of a cab one morning. And she looked well, lets just say not herself. A bit worse for wear, perhaps. The whole streets talking. At her age! And why did she kick your dad out? Yes, he messed up, but who doesnt? Forty years togetherseems daft to divorce now.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Thompson,” Emily managed, swallowing hard. “Ill talk to her.”
With that, she hurried inside. Her mother *had* thrown Dad out six months ago after catching him cheating. Emily had begged her to reconsiderthings could be mended. But Mum had stood firm. Strangest of all? She wasnt wallowing. Instead, she was thrivingnew clothes, nights out, friends. Things shed never done before.
It unsettled Emily. She was about to marry James; they wanted kids. And her mumout clubbing till dawn? What kind of gran would she be? How would she explain it to her future mother-in-law, who knitted blankets while her own mum danced in heels?
When she stepped inside, her mother greeted her with a teapot and a bright smile. No worn-out dressing gownjust a smart beige trouser suit. Manicure, pedicure, lashes done. Radiant.
“So, hows James?” she asked, setting down the cups.
“Fine,” Emily replied, steadying her voice. “But what about you?”
“Brilliant! Last night, the girls and I stayed out till sunrise. Dancing, then karaoke. What a laugh!”
“Mrs. Thompson told me everything,” Emily said darkly. “That you rolled in at five, looking well, tipsy.”
Mum laughed. “What did you expect? Sipping chamomile at a bar?”
Emily couldnt hold back.
“Mum, dont you think youre overdoing it?”
“How so?”
“Youre not twenty anymore. Clubs? Dancing? Youre meant to be setting an example. Youll be a grandmother!”
“Im a woman whos finally free. I wont live by someone elses script.”
“But you stayed with Dad for decades! How can you move on so easily?”
Her mother paused, then said calmly, “Your father *chose* to betray me. Not a mistakea decision. And I refuse to just be a housekeeper anymore. I want to *live*. For *me*. I gave forty years to family. Now I do what I please.”
“Youre nearly fifty!”
“So? I dont age on schedule.”
Emily realised shed gone too far.
“Sorry, I didnt mean to upset you. I just care.”
“If youre ashamed, dont invite me to the wedding. But know this: I wont hide my grey hair under a scarf or wear frumpy dresses. Ill dance. Maybe even flirt. Im happy.”
“No, Mum, I want you there. Its just”
“Just Auntie Margaret disapproves? Well, tough. Im finally alive.”
Back home, she told James everything.
“I dont know how to feel.”
He grinned. “I think your mums brilliant. She chose joy, not misery. No crime in that.”
That weekend, Emily rang her mother.
“Mum, fancy a spa day, then cocktails with live music?”
“Wont I embarrass you?”
“Ill tell them youre my older sister,” Emily laughed.
“Deal. But were not leaving early.”
That day changed everything. For the first time, Emily saw her mothers strengthand realised maybe *she* could learn from it. To live not “as she should,” but as she truly wanted.
**Lesson:** Happiness isnt a deadline. Sometimes the bravest thing isnt enduringits choosing yourself.
