Granny Anna sat on the bench outside her quaint old cottage, the only home she’d ever known. Now, the house belonged to someone else, and she lived there at their kindness. How it came to this, Anna couldn’t grasp. She had led a life of righteousness, never wishing harm upon anyone, raising her only son with all the love she could muster.
But her son turned out differently from what she had hoped… As she sat there, Granny Anna recalled her life in fragments, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her memories started with her marriage to her beloved Jack. A year later, they had a son, Paul. Later came twins, a boy and a girl, but they were frail and didn’t survive the week. Soon after, Jack passed away from appendicitis, misdiagnosed by doctors until it was too late, and peritonitis set in…
Anna mourned Jack for a long time, but tears do not solve anything, and life had to go on. She never remarried, though there were suitors. She feared a stepfather would complicate things for her little Paul, so she devoted herself entirely to raising him.
Paul grew up and chose his own path, far from his mother’s village and into the city. There, he found a profession, married, and carried on with his life. Granny Anna remained alone in the little house Jack had built for them as newlyweds, living there until her ripe old age. Paul would visit occasionally, chop wood, fetch water, and help where he could. But year by year, it became harder for Anna to manage on her own. She kept only a goat and some chickens, but even they required attention.
One day, Paul arrived with an unfamiliar man.
“Hello, Mum,” he greeted.
“Hello, Paul.”
“This is my friend, John,” Paul continued. “He’s interested in buying your cottage. It’s too much for you to handle on your own, anyway; you’ll come to the city to live with me.”
Caught off guard, Granny Anna sat down suddenly.
“Don’t worry, Mum. My wife doesn’t mind. We’ll take care of you, keep you fed, warm, and you can help with the grandchildren. They keep asking when Granny Anne is coming.”
It seemed everything had been decided for Anna. What could she do, being so old? She couldn’t tend the household anymore, but at least she could look after her grandchildren.
***************
And so, Granny Anna’s house was sold swiftly and without any hassle. Before leaving, the old woman bid a long farewell to her home, inspecting each corner brimming with memories. Outside, in the vegetable patch and barn, silence met her, squeezing her heart with grief. It hadn’t been long since cows mooed, pigs grunted, the goat bleated, and chickens scurried about. Now, it was all empty.
Walking back from the garden, she took a handful of the soil she had toiled over day and night. It was hard for Granny Anna to say goodbye to the familiar places, the village where she was born and spent her life. Neighbors wept as they said their goodbyes, promising to pray for her prosperity in her new life.
She took one last look at her home and headed to her son’s car. What choice did she have? Such is the bitterness of old age…
At first, life with her son was comfortable. There were no tasks to attend to – no fires to stoke, no livestock to tend. Everything was automated, convenient. Granny Anna played with her grandchildren and watched television.
Soon, her son used the money from selling the house to buy a car. Granny Anna voiced her concerns about spending so hastily, but Paul interrupted, making it clear the matter was closed – she needn’t worry about finances when she was living warmly and comfortably.
From then on, Granny Anna never mentioned it again, although her son’s harsh words lodged an ache deep inside her. She noted that with the car’s purchase, her son and daughter-in-law’s attitudes shifted, and the grandchildren became less polite and cheerful.
Her family began to overlook her. They seemed unconcerned if she had eaten, slept well, or needed anything. And then it worsened – not only was she often left out of meals, they rarely spoke to her at all. They responded rudely or shouted if she did something ‘wrong’.
Life became difficult for Anna. Had she known she would become unwanted so quickly, she would never have agreed to sell the house and leave. Better to risk dying of cold and hunger in her home than live like a stranger with her son in his luxury. She pined for her little cottage every day. If she could return, she would do so without hesitation. But the house was sold, now occupied by strangers.
One day, she could bear it no longer and said to her son, “I never thought my old age in your home would be so bitter, Paul. It seems money mattered more to you than your own mother. I’m leaving you all…”
Her son lowered his eyes and said nothing, but as Granny Anna gathered her sparse belongings and stepped out, he called after her: “When you’re done wandering, you can always come back.”
She closed the door quietly and, on the landing, let her tears flow. It pained her deeply that her son had let her go without trying to stop her, console her, or even find kind words to say.
***************
Granny Anna journeyed over a night and day to reach her village. She slept at the station, hitchhiked partway, and cried all the while. Peace only came when she saw her beloved house again. The new owners had patched it up, painted it, and it looked very much like the home she moved into with her dear Jack.
Despite knowing it wasn’t hers anymore, Granny Anna slipped into the pigsty attic to stay. Being in her familiar walls was enough. Her only fear was that the new owners would discover her and send her away, as her own son had. Then she truly would have nowhere to go. Perhaps the ground would open beneath her and embrace her in.
But Granny Anna hadn’t hidden long. Early the next morning, the owner came to feed the pigs. As he scattered the feed, he looked up and said, “Come down, Granny Anna, we need a word.”
The old woman hadn’t expected to be found so soon and didn’t know what to do. Either way, she had to speak to the owners – whatever would be, would be. God’s will, after all.
What she heard from the new owner of the house left her speechless:
“Granny Anne,” spoke John, with whom Paul had once introduced her, in a calm and kind voice. “My wife and I know all about your situation. Your son called to warn us you might turn up. We know you didn’t settle with his family. After some thought, we’d like to offer you a place with us since your son couldn’t provide one. It’s unseemly for you to live in a pigsty, especially in your own home. You and your husband built and cared for it for decades. We’ll find space here for the real mistress of the house! Warm yourself up, wash, and my wife will make you some delicious stew.”
Granny Anna never anticipated such an outcome and broke down, tears of gratitude flowing for these new, kind occupants of the house. Strangers showed more compassion and understanding than her own son had.
Crossing the home’s threshold, Granny Anna was barely able to stand. Everything smelled of her life. She realized, because of her son, she had become homeless in her own house. The heart of the old mother wept, while her lips prayed for mercy upon Paul.
