Anne just turned sixty, a milestone birthday. Her career as a university lecturer spanned decades, and she raised her only daughter, Natalie, to be an honest, independent, and what she considered, a wise woman. After retiring, Anne felt increasingly lonely and, like many women her age, frequently mentioned to her daughter, “Natalie, it’s time to have a child. I want grandchildren.” It seemed like a simple maternal desire. Natalie would smile and brush it off until one day, she genuinely decided to give her mother a grandchild.
Natalie’s husband, James, was a successful computer programmer with a solid income. Natalie herself was no slouch; she was active, business-savvy, and always on the go. In two years of marriage, they managed to launch an online store, close it, travel across Europe by hitchhiking, attend a motorcycle festival, live in a hostel in Portugal, cycle around the UK, and celebrate New Year’s in a campsite. Natalie despised wearing skirts and hardly ever used makeup. She met James during a summer music festival near the River Thames.
When her mother again brought up the topic of grandchildren, Natalie unexpectedly agreed. Not long after, during Anne’s birthday celebration, there came a toast she would never forget: “Mum, you’re going to be a grandmother!” Tears of joy and shimmering eyes followed. From that moment, Anne lived with a dream—she knitted tiny baby booties, bought baby clothes, and scoured the internet for tips on baby development. Meanwhile, Natalie and James carried on with their usual lifestyle—travelling, meetings, exhibitions, and new projects. Natalie had no intention of staying home. Her pregnancy was smooth, and she often said, “I’m not sick, just expecting.”
Issues arose during her seventh month when she was denied boarding a flight to India. Natalie was more upset with the airline than with her husband flying solo. “Terrible service,” she grumbled.
Their son, whom they named Joshua, was born—a fair-haired, blue-eyed cherub. Anne cried tears of joy. But the happiness was short-lived. While still in the hospital, Natalie announced, “I’m not breastfeeding. I don’t want him to get too attached to me. I want to live my life.” She had already arranged with an agency to find a nanny. But Anne gave her a look that silenced Natalie. “A nanny—over my dead body,” Anne declared firmly. And so, it began.
From the age of three months, Joshua became a daily part of Anne’s life. She commuted to their flat as if it were a job: early morning in, late evening out. Changing diapers, feeding, bathing, and putting him to sleep—everything was for her grandson. Then came the call to James: friends were selling a house in Thailand at a knockdown price—an opportunity. He and Natalie flew away, leaving the child with Anne “for a week.”
A week turned into a month, then two. Natalie didn’t return. She showed up nearly a year later when Joshua turned one. She spent two days with him and vanished again—for “business reasons.” Before leaving, she kissed Joshua on the head and handed some money to Anne. “We’ll come back when he’s about five. In the meantime, get a nanny; don’t wear yourself out.”
But Anne refused. She didn’t see her grandson as a “temporary burden.” He had become her reason for living. She woke with him, lay beside him, whispered stories, and taught him his first words. Yes, it was challenging. Yes, age was a factor. But the heart doesn’t age.
Now every day, she is with him—on the playground, walks, or at the pediatrician’s. Natalie sends photos from the beach, surfing, cocktails, and “new horizons” in life. Yet in these horizons, there is no Joshua. But Anne is convinced that one day, he will understand who was truly by his side. And even though his parents are far away, he has someone who will never leave him.
Because grandchildren aren’t given as birthday gifts. They are born to be loved.
