**Diary Entry 12th April**
I woke before dawn today, earlier than usual. The park is always a mess after the weekend revelry, so I set off at four to get a head start. Been doing this jobstreet sweepingfor years now. Funny how life turns out. Once, things were different.
As I gripped the broom, I thought of my boy, Oliver. Had him at thirty-five, a choice I made after too many failed romances. Never regretted it. He was bright, handsome, but restless. Hated our estate.
Mum, when I grow up, Ill be someone proper important, hed say.
Course you will, love, Id reply.
At sixteen, he moved into student digs near his college. Promised to visit often. At first, he did. Then he met a girlEmily, was it?and home became an afterthought. Then came the day he returned for good, pale as parchment, whispering the words no mother should hear.
We fought. The doctors said treatment abroad might help, but it cost a fortune. Sold my flat without blinking. Then the call came in the dead of night.
Mrs. Thompson Im sorry.
After that, the world lost its colour.
This morning, as I swept, Mr. Jenkins from flat 12B waved, his terrier tugging at the lead.
Up with the larks, eh? he said.
Someones got to clean up after the lot of you, I teased, though my heart wasnt in it.
He chuckled and moved on. Thats when I spotted ita phone on the bench. No one around. I tapped the screen, and there he was. My Ollie. Staring back from a strangers photos. My knees buckled.
Oh, my boy
The phone rang. A womans voice, frantic.
Hello? Thats my phone! Can I collect it?
I gave her the address. When she arrived, a lad stood behind herspitting image of Oliver at that age. My vision swam.
Whered you get these pictures of my son? I managed.
Your son? The girlLucylooked stunned. The boy stepped forward.
Mum? he said to her.
I fainted.
Woke to doctors fussing. Later, Lucy sat me down.
I dated Oliver years ago. He left when I told him I was pregnant.
No, I whispered. He was ill. Didnt want to burden you.
Her face crumpled. Hes gone?
I nodded. Then she called the boyEthan.
Meet your grandma, she said softly.
The lad shuffled forward. Alright, Gran?
I pulled him close. Lucy offered me their spare room, but I declined. This old birds rooted here. But Ill visit.
Then a knock. Mr. Jenkins, clutching daffodils.
Fancy a stroll?
From the kitchen, Lucy and Ethan grinned. Can we come?
If you behave, he winked.
Two months on, Im Mrs. Jenkins. His terrier, Rex, adores Ethan. While I bake scones, they race round the garden.
Funny, isnt it? Just when you think lifes done with you, it hands you a second act.
