My mother-in-law used to mock my mum for cleaning other peoples homes Now she cleans mine.
Ill never forget the first time I brought my husband home to meet my parents. Mum had cooked her famous roast, and I was as jittery as a cat at Crufts. Not because of Mum and Dad, mindbecause of his mother.
So, darling, what do you do? Mum asked, dishing up the salad.
Engineer. Works for one of the big construction firms, I said, hoping shed notice how that sounded. What I didnt mention was that his mother never missed a chance to remind me of my humble beginnings.
My own baptism by fire at her house happened three years ago. She greeted me wearing pearls and that sort of suit that quietly screams expensive, while her furniture outright bellowed it.
My son says your mother cleans houses, she said over tea, and the way she said cleans houses youd think Mum ran a black-market operation out of the broom cupboard.
Yes. Shes an honest, hardworking woman, I replied, trying not to choke on the Earl Grey.
Oh, of course every honest job has its dignity, she said, but her voice had the warmth of a British summer. Still, one always wishes better for ones childreneducation, career, the rest of it…
Im studying at university, I said. Business Administration.
And who pays for that, dear? On a cleaners wages she started.
Then my husband chimed in. For the very first time.
Shes on a scholarship. One of the best in her course.
Didnt matterpoint already made.
The next few years were a slow drip-feed of humiliation.
You can clear the plates, I suppose youve got more experience than the rest of us, shed say at family gatherings.
Funny how a girl from your background can be so picky about food.
He couldve married a doctors daughter
Mum would always tell me, Dont mind them, love. Some people never change.
But I did.
I graduated with honours. Landed a cracking job in a global company. We got married, and at the ceremony, she looked as cheerful as a mourner at a wet funeral. Only without the right to object.
Then life turned the tables.
Her husbands business went belly-up. They lost everythingthe house, the cars, the status. Ended up in a pokey little flat. Her pride collapsed right alongside her bank balance.
Meanwhile, my career flourished. I became regional manager. We bought a beautiful house.
One day my husband pulled a face, looking awkward.
My parents arent coping. Mums depressed. Do you reckon?
That they might move in with us? I finished.
I couldve said no. I had every reason. But I thought of my mumhow she cleaned other peoples homes with dignity and came back exhausted, but smiling.
Let them come, I said.
When his mother walked into our home, something inside her wilted. I saw it in her eyesthe airy rooms, the calm, the sunshine.
Its lovely she whispered.
Its your home too, I told her.
At first, she kept to herself. Then one morning, I found her cleaning in the kitchen.
You dont need to, I said.
She turned, tears in her eyes.
I was cruel. To you. To your mother. Now I understand. Dignity isnt in the job you do, but how you do it. And the love you bring to it.
We hugged.
Now she and my mum cook together, laughing like schoolgirls. She plays with my children.
Yesterday, as we folded laundry, she said:
I once mocked your mum for cleaning other peoples homes. Today I clean here, and its the most dignified work Ive ever donebecause I do it with gratitude.
Youre not cleaning my house, I whispered. Youre home.
Life has a strange knack for teaching us the lessons we most need.
Ever forgiven someone who hurt you deepand realised, in the end, that the forgiveness freed you more than it did them?
