Hey love, listen my daughter Ellie became a mum when she was just seventeen. She was still a kid herself, eyes full of wonder, dreaming about a life that was just beginning. She had a baby boy, Jack, and moved in with me. I did what I could I held the little one at night, cooked, soothed her, tried to keep things steady. But she kept saying, This isnt my life, I want something different.
When she turned nineteen, she packed off to Australia, saying shed get a job, send money back, give Jack a better future, and that shed be back soon. A month passed and her phone stopped ringing. I never heard her voice again.
Sometimes Id spot a smiling photo of her online, on holiday with friends, looking happy. Yet there was no call, no penny sent, not even a hows Jack doing? I had to take everything on my own.
I raised Jack by myself nursery, primary school, homework, sickness, bedtime stories. He grew up calling me Mum. At ten, Ellie suddenly turned up, saying she wanted to see him. She stayed a month, took him on outings, bought a few clothes and toys, left a bit of cash about a hundred pounds. I thought maybe this time would be different. But she vanished again.
Two years of silence. I stopped waiting, stopped the fights, the grudges. I just lived for Jack. When he turned twelve, she reappeared, saying shed come back for her son, as if he were a suitcase she could pick up whenever she liked. I tried to push her away, but I had no legal rights. I got a summons for a mediation hearing. In that room, while Jack sobbed and begged me not to give him away, I said, Take him. Ive done my part.
She took him to another city. It hurt like hell, but I learned to accept it. At first shed bring him back every fortnight, then less often, then only on school holidays. Each time Jack would whisper, Gran, this isnt my home. I never said a harsh word about Ellie. Id just murmur, One day youll understand. And that day finally came.
When Jack turned eighteen, he showed up at my doorstep with a suitcase and tears in his eyes. He wrapped his arms around me and said, Gran, I want to live with you. I didnt cry; I held him close and whispered, This house will always be yours.
Now Jacks an adult, studying, dreaming, building his own life. His mother lives far away, and he doesnt look for her. He says he isnt angry theres simply nothing left to talk about. I feel at peace because I did what I had to do. The love I gave has come back to me in his smile.
