Living Together with My Mum: At 57, I Celebrate Life with My 86-Year-Old Mother, Finding Joy and Comfort in Our Quiet Days, Tea Evenings, Knitting, Films, and Weekend Baking Despite Life’s Unexpected Turns

Author Mitsuko NagasakiReading 2 minViews 2

So, I live with my mum. Shes 86 now.

Life just sort of worked out in a funny way for meI never got married and havent got any kids. Now Im 57, just had my birthday recently. We celebrated just the two of us: me and Mum. Theres really no one I could have invited over; I dont have close friends, and its just us left in the family.

Were together and weve always tried to be there for each other. Mums really getting on, bless her, and although her health isnt what it used to be and it does seem to get a bit worse each year, shes a trooperdoesnt give up, still insists on going for walks on her own.

Im retired now, but Ive kept working because our pensions arent quite enough for a comfortable living. Still, I dont let it get to me. Im grateful to have my lovely mum. You know, a lot of people are much worse offsome dont have a flat to call home, no family, and no money either.

But as for me and Mum, we live pretty quietly. Evenings are the bestwe sit together, have a nice cup of tea, do a bit of knitting, and watch our favourite telly shows or films. On the weekends, I love baking a cake and we invite the neighbours round for a slice. They tell us stories about their families, and you know, I genuinely feel happy for people when life treats them kindly, and I just hope and pray that me and Mum can keep trouble at bay.

Thats really our life right now. I just want this little world of ours to carry on for as long as possiblefor both me and her.

A Blessing from Above… The morning broke gloomy, heavy clouds dragged across the sky, faint thunder rumbled in the distance as the first storm of spring approached. Winter was finally over, yet true spring hesitated to arrive. Blustery winds swept last year’s leaves across the cold ground, grass timidly struggled through hard soil, and tree buds concealed their treasures. Nature ached for rain after a long, snowless winter, as parched earth longed for the coming storm to cleanse and restore life. Only then would real spring begin—abundant and blossoming, like a young woman full of love and tenderness. Birds would sing, gardens bloom, and new life would stir. “Alex, breakfast’s ready!” Victoria’s call cut through the weary silence after a long, tearful night and troubling news—they could not have children. But life goes on. Over coffee and eggs, Victoria recited a poem about longing for spring, for clarity, for renewal. Embraces in the kitchen brought comfort, until thunder crashed and rain poured down—the long-awaited spring downpour, washing away the darkness in their hearts. Days later, they stood nervously at the doors of a children’s home, trembling with anticipation to meet the child they hoped to adopt—a son. Inside, surrounded by orphans, their hearts broke for a blue-eyed, neglected girl called Elaine, who reminded them of Victoria. Despite objections over her clubbed feet and difficult prospects, their compassion overflowed. Consultations and tough decisions followed, but love triumphed—they would make this child their own, no matter the challenges. Endless hospital stays, surgeries, sleepless nights, and sacrifices—including selling their car and unfinished home—led to little Elaine’s transformation. By school age, she was a bright, lovely artist, adored by teachers and friends. Sash and Victoria, once punished by fate, found their lives blessed and thriving—business success, a new home in London, their daughter the pride of her prestigious school. No one suspected the trials they had overcome. No one doubted—for them and their beloved Elaine—she was truly a blessing from above.

02

A Blessing from Heaven… It was a gloomy morning: heavy clouds dragged low across the sky, faint thunder rumbled in the distance. A storm was approaching—the first of the spring. Winter had ended, yet spring was slow to claim its place; the air remained chilly, and gusty winds chased last year’s leaves in swirling clouds of dust. Fresh grass was only just daring to peek through the hard ground, the tree buds tight and secretive. Nature waited longingly for rain. The past winter had brought little snow, and the land, restless and thirsty, yearned for the coming storm to revive it with generous showers. Only then would true spring burst forth—lush and blooming, as radiant and tender as a woman in full bloom. Birds would fill the air with song, build their nests in blossoming gardens, and life would begin anew. “Sophie, breakfast is ready!” called Emma from the kitchen. “Your coffee is getting cold.” The aroma of coffee and eggs drifted in, but after the heavy conversation and Emma’s tears last night, the sleeplessness, and the painful deliberations, finding the strength to get up was difficult. Yet life goes on. Emma, too, looked spent; her eyes reddened, dark shadows beneath them. She offered Sophie her pale cheek for a kiss, smiling faintly. “Good morning, love. Looks like a storm’s coming. Oh, how I long for rain! When will real spring finally arrive? Listen, darling, these lines came to me this morning: I wait for spring, for deliverance From winter’s chill and homelessness. I wait for spring’s unfolding light To untangle all life’s uncertainty. I dream that when it comes at last, Everything will soon be clear. I know that only spring can make All honest, simple, safe, and sure. Where are you, spring? Come quickly! Sophie embraced her, pressing a kiss into Emma’s soft blond hair, which smelled faintly of wildflowers and open fields. Her heart ached with sorrow. My poor darling, my precious—why must we endure such trials? There had always been hope; it’s what got them through the years. But yesterday, the renowned doctor, the one they’d clung to as their last hope, closed the book on their dream. “I’m so sorry, but you cannot have children. Your time in Chernobyl, Sophie, left scars medicine cannot heal.” Emma, dabbing her eyes, said firmly, “Sophie, I’ve been thinking. We should adopt a child. There are so many children who need a home. We could take in a boy—raise him as our own. Would you agree? We’ve hoped so long for a son.” Tears streamed down her face, and Sophie held her close, unable to keep her own tears at bay. “Of course, darling! Don’t cry, please.” Just then, the thunder cracked deafeningly, shaking the house. The sky opened, and finally the rain poured down—God had heard their prayers at last. The precious spring rain, symbolic of life and renewal, washed away the gloom in their hearts. All they wished now was that it would last a little longer. A few days later, they stood in front of the orphanage doors, pulse quickening with anticipation. They had come to choose a son—long-awaited, already deeply loved. Inside, their guide showed them a room; but it was not a boy who caught Emma’s eye, but a small, sorrowful girl in damp clothes, blue eyes wide and lonely. “Let’s see that little girl,” Emma whispered, and Sophie squeezed her hand. The staff hesitated: “But you wanted a boy. This girl isn’t prepared for visitors.” Still, they insisted, and soon found themselves before the child: freshly washed now, her cheeks flushed, she smiled shyly and reached out—revealing her legs, twisted and turned because of a birth defect. Sophie scooped her into her arms; the child pressed her damp face against Sophie’s cheek, and both Sophie and Emma found their eyes wet with tears. In the administrator’s office, they learned her story: unwanted by her overwhelmed parents, the little girl—Lily—had been abandoned to the state. “Decide for yourselves if you can take on such a challenge,” the director cautioned. But Sophie and Emma already knew the answer in their hearts. Medical experts confirmed: surgeries could give Lily a normal, healthy childhood. Sacrifices would need to be made, but with hard work and love, they could succeed. After paperwork and court proceedings, they finally brought their daughter home. Months of hospital stays and sleepless nights followed, but eventually Lily’s legs were healed, and she was running and laughing like every other little girl. Gifted in art, Lily amazed everyone with her talent, brightening exhibitions with lively landscapes and joyful scenes. At school, she was a star—clever, well-loved, always surrounded by friends. No one would ever guess the hardships she—and her devoted parents—had endured, or how love had changed her life. Since Lily’s arrival, fortune smiled on Sophie and Emma. Business flourished, and they soon moved to London, enrolling their daughter in an excellent school. Lily, now in year six, remains their pride: beautiful, kind, radiant—everyone’s favourite. A blessing from Heaven—that’s how everyone knows her.

05

Mother-in-Law Times Two “Well, I never!” exclaimed George, instead of a greeting, as he opened the door to find a petite, sprightly old lady in jeans, her lips curled into a sly grin and her mischievous eyes twinkling under lowered lids. “I recognise her—Valerie Peterson, Irene’s gran. But turning up unannounced, not so much as a phone call…” “Hello, lad!” she greeted him, still smiling. “You going to invite me in, then?” George bustled, “Yes, absolutely, please come through.” Valerie rolled her wheeled suitcase into the flat. Later, as George offered her tea, she directed, “Make mine strong! So Irene’s at work, little Olivia’s at nursery, and what about you? Why aren’t you busy?” “Work sent me on leave,” he answered gloomily. “Two weeks—company policy.” There went his dreams of a peaceful fortnight. With hope, he asked his guest, “Will you be staying long?” “Spot on,” she replied, crushing his hopes, “I’ll be here a while.” George sighed again. He barely knew Valerie Peterson—he’d only glimpsed her at his wedding to Irene, when she’d come in from another city. But his own father-in-law spoke about his mother-in-law in such hushed and nervous tones, anyone could see she was respected—if not downright feared. “Wash the dishes,” she ordered, “and get yourself ready. We’ll have a tour of the town, and you’ll be my guide!” George didn’t even try to protest, not after the tone she’d used. It reminded him of Sergeant Prichard back in the army—a man you never argued with. “You’ll show me the riverside!” Valerie instructed. “What’s the best way to get there?” She looped her arm through his and confidently set off down the pavement, eyes wide with curiosity. “Taxi’s easiest,” George shrugged. Without warning, Valerie tucked her fingers into a ring and whistled piercingly. A passing taxi screeched to a stop. “Do you have to whistle like that? What will people think?” George said, helping her climb into the front seat. “They won’t think anything about me,” she grinned impishly. “They’ll probably think it’s you with no manners!” The taxi driver burst out laughing and clapped Valerie on the hand as if they were lifelong mates. For the rest of the riverside stroll, his sprightly relative regaled George with tales: “You seem a quiet, polite sort,” she said to him. “Your gran probably acts all refined too, but that’s not me. My late husband—Irina’s granddad, bless him—took forever to get used to me. He was a bookish, gentle sort, then I turned up—dragged him up mountains, got him to parachute with me. The one thing he wouldn’t touch was a hang-glider. Terrified! He’d watch the skies while I looped overhead.” To George’s surprise, Irene had never mentioned any of this about her whirlwind gran. It explained a lot. “Ever jumped from a plane yourself?” she asked, eyeing him. “In the army, fourteen times,” George replied with pride. “Good lad!” Valerie nodded approvingly and began to hum: “It’s a long drop down, When the parachute’s slow…” George recognised the song and joined in, their voices blending and driving away his nerves. Afterwards, Valerie suggested a break. “Let’s get something to eat—the aroma from that barbecue hut has me starving!” They sat near a swarthy, hawk-eyed chef skewering meat with the look of a man just as happy to duel with knives. Valerie winked and burst into song: “Gamarjoba, my friend, Wouldn’t it be grand to sing at a wedding?” The chef’s eyes lit up at the unexpected duet, and together they improvised a lively chorus before he bowed gallantly and set down a feast of skewers, flatbread, and fresh salad. He even brought two glasses of icy wine with a flourish. Drawn by the scent, a small grey kitten crept from the shrubbery. “Perfect—you’re just what we need!” Valerie beamed. “Come here, darling.” She turned to the chef: “Sir, could you bring some fresh meat for our little friend?” While the kitten devoured its treat, Valerie chided George: “You’ve got a little girl at home! And no cat? How are you planning to teach her kindness, love, compassion? This kitten stays!” After the outing, Valerie scrubbed the new family pet while sending George shopping for supplies. When he returned, arms laden with litter trays and beds, the flat was ringing with laughter as Irene and Olivia clung to their delighted gran. The kitten—with a regal air—watched from the sofa backrest. Valerie dispensed gifts. “Olivia, a summer set with shorts for you… Irene, nothing boosts a woman’s confidence in her husband’s eyes like lacy knickers…” The next week, Olivia skipped nursery, she and Valerie returning home each day exhausted but glowing from adventures. At home, George and the kitten (now named Lionel) awaited them, and in the evenings, Irene joined for family walks, Lionel in tow. “George, I need a word,” Valerie said seriously one night. “I’m leaving tomorrow—it’s time. Here: after I’m gone, give this document to Irene. It’s my will. She gets the flat and everything in it, you get our family library—some very rare treasures in there…” “Oh, Valerie, honestly!” George protested, but she silenced him. “I haven’t told Irene, only you—my heart’s not well, and it could end suddenly. Best to be ready.” “But you shouldn’t be alone!” “Oh, I’m never alone,” she smiled. “My daughter, your mother-in-law, is just a town away. You look after Irene and raise Olivia well. You’re a good man—reliable. And as for me—well, I’m your mother-in-law squared, aren’t I?” She laughed and clapped his shoulder. “Couldn’t you stay a little longer?” George pleaded. Valerie just smiled and shook her head. The whole family—Lionel included—walked her out for her taxi the next day. Valerie made her trademark whistle and a taxi screeched to a halt. “Come along, son, you’re seeing me to the station!” she commanded, kissing Irene and Olivia before hopping on the front seat. The cabbie stared in disbelief as George loaded the suitcase. “Never seen a proper English lady before?” George muttered. The spry, silver-haired matriarch shook with laughter and high-fived George with a resounding smack as the adventure came to a close.

05

When He Got Home from Work, the Cat Was Gone Oliver was an ordinary young man, free of bad habits. On his 25th birthday, his parents gave him the gift of a flat—helping him with the deposit for his first mortgage. So, Oliver started living on his own. He worked as a software developer, preferred a quiet life, and kept mostly to himself. To beat the loneliness, Oliver decided to adopt a kitten. The kitten, whom he named Charming, was born with a defect in his front paws. The previous owners wanted to have him put down, but Oliver couldn’t bear the thought and took the little one in. They got along splendidly—Oliver always rushed home from work to see Charming, who would be waiting for him at the hallway mat. After a while, Oliver began dating a co-worker, Sophie. Sophie was clever and soon swept Oliver off his feet; less than a month later, she moved in. She immediately disliked Charming and asked Oliver to give the cat away, which he refused, explaining how important Charming was to him. Sophie didn’t give up and kept pressing Oliver to get rid of the cat. Oliver told her Charming was staying. Sophie claimed the cat ruined their image since guests were disgusted by his paws. Torn between Sophie and Charming, Oliver was caught in the middle—he cared for both deeply. Incidentally, Oliver’s parents were uneasy about Sophie, finding her rude and brash. They urged him not to rush into anything serious without taking a closer look first. When Sophie’s parents later visited for the first time, Oliver realised he didn’t want a future with her. Sophie’s father laughed at Charming the moment he stepped in, calling him a freak. Oliver stood up for his cat, but the whole evening, Sophie and her father mocked Charming’s looks and joked about sending him away. Sophie’s mum laughed along with them. The very next day, Oliver came home from work—Charming was gone. When he asked Sophie where the cat was, she said she’d taken Charming to the vets and left him there. Oliver frantically searched for his cat for five hours… and found him at last. Delighted to be reunited, Charming purred softly in Oliver’s arms. When Oliver returned home, he told Sophie to pack up and leave. He never wanted to see her again; she was simply repulsive to him now. The next morning, Sophie quietly packed her things and left, indignant. She never imagined the cat would be chosen over her. Now, Oliver and Charming live happily together, and the little cat greets his owner joyfully every evening when he comes home from work.

05

📌 Useful Social Services & Contacts in the U.S.

Stay informed and get help when you need it. Below are key national services with direct contacts that may support you or your loved ones:
🏥 Health & Mental Support

SAMHSA – Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration

What they do: Free and confidential help with substance use and mental health disorders.

Hotline: 1-800-662-HELP (4357) – 24/7, anonymous support

Website: samhsa.gov

🧒 Support for Children & Families

WIC – Women, Infants, and Children Program

What they do: Nutritional and healthcare support for pregnant women, new mothers, and young children.

Federal Info Line: 1-800-522-5006

Find local WIC office: fns.usda.gov/wic

Living Together with My Mum: At 57, I Celebrate Life with My 86-Year-Old Mother, Finding Joy and Comfort in Our Quiet Days, Tea Evenings, Knitting, Films, and Weekend Baking Despite Life’s Unexpected Turns