She Got My Mother-in-Law Back on Her Feet—But I’m Furious Because I Didn’t Weed the Vegetable Patch —“What are you doing here?”—My mother-in-law shouted, standing in the middle of the vegetable beds. “There’s never been such disgrace here before! I never had to hide behind a child—I had seven and not a single weed in my garden!” Her shout brought the neighbours, who flocked to the fence like crows and eagerly discussed everything they heard. Seeing her audience, my mother-in-law enjoyed the moment. She said her piece, while I stood there speechless. At last, worn out from ranting, she took a breath and declared loudly enough for all the neighbours to hear: I didn’t say a word. I calmly walked past my mother-in-law, hugging my child closer. Once inside, I went to the wardrobe and neatly sorted everything my mother-in-law was supposed to take that evening and the following morning into a special box. Without even folding anything, I tossed my son’s and my own things into a bag. I left without saying another word to her. Three days later, my mother-in-law called: —“What did you do with all those things the professor put together for her? I asked a neighbour to buy a few, but she said one jar is terribly expensive. And those with foreign writing—we absolutely don’t use or trade those. So what am I supposed to do? You’ve left, taken offence for some reason, and I’m here on my last legs!” I didn’t answer. I turned off my phone and took out the SIM card. That was it—I couldn’t do it any longer, not physically, not emotionally. A year ago, just before my son was born, my husband lost control of his car on an icy road. I vaguely remember taking him on his final journey, how the ambulance took him, and how the next morning, I became a mother… I couldn’t bring myself to care about anything. Nothing seemed important or worthwhile without my beloved husband. I fed and rocked my son mechanically, because that’s what I was told to do. The phone broke through my numbness. “Your mother-in-law is in bad shape. She won’t survive long without her son, apparently.” My decision was instant. After leaving hospital, I immediately sold my flat in London. I invested part of the money into building a new home, so my son would have something of his own when he grew up. And I went to save my mother-in-law. This past year, I didn’t live—I merely existed. I barely slept, caring for both my mother-in-law and my little boy. The baby was restless, and my mother-in-law needed my constant attention. Thank goodness I had money. I brought in the best specialists from across the UK to see her. I bought everything they prescribed, and at last, my mother-in-law returned to normal life. At first, I wheeled her from room to room, then around the garden. In the end, she regained so much strength she began walking on her own—then— I don’t want to know or hear from her again. She can find out everything she needs for her recovery herself. At least I was wise enough not to spend all the money on her. My son and I moved into our new flat. I never thought it would come to this. I wanted to live my life with my husband’s mother, as I’m an orphan. But now, I just want peace. At least I’ve learned: not everyone deserves good treatment. Some people care much more about a spotless vegetable patch.

I managed to get my mother-in-law back on her feet. But Im still fuming because I never weeded the vegetable beds.

What on earth do you think youre doing? My mother-in-law bellowed, standing right in the middle of the parsnip patches. Never in all my years has there been such disgrace here! I never needed to hide behind a child, you knowI raised seven of my own, and not a single weed ever dared show its face!

Her shouting had already attracted the neighbours. They pressed themselves to the garden gate like a flock of jackdaws, whispering about everything they overheard. Seeing her audience, my mother-in-law reveled in her performance. The things she said, I can barely recall it now, I was so stunned. She only paused for breath when wearied by her own noise, then announced, loudly and clearly so all in the terrace could hear:

I said nothing. I walked quietly past her, hugging my son tighter in my arms. Once inside the house, I went to the wardrobe, packed everything my mother-in-law was meant to take that evening and the next morning into a special box. Without bothering to fold them, I threw both my son’s and my own clothes into a bag. I left the house without a single word to her.

Three days later, she rang:

What did you do with all those things the doctor put together for me? I asked Mrs. Carter next door to buy a few bits, but she said one jar cost a small fortune. And the rest, well, theyre all labelled in some foreign languageno one here will take them or swap them for anything useful. So what am I supposed to do? Youve gone off in a sulk, over who knows what, and now Im left here to meet my maker?

Again, I said nothing. I turned off my phone, took out the SIM card, and left it. That was it. I couldnt go on, not in mind or body.

A year earlier, just before my son was born, my husband lost control of his car on a slippery lane. I only half remember how I followed the ambulance taking him away, how I said my last goodbye, and then, by morning, I was suddenly a mother. I didnt want to do anything; nothing around me mattered without my beloved husband. I fed and rocked my baby simply because I was told to.

The phone call that jolted me was brief.

Your mother-in-laws not well. Word is she wont survive long after her son.

I made my decision at once. I moved out straight away and sold my flat in London. I put aside some of the money to build a new home, so my son might have something of his own one day. Then I went to look after my mother-in-law.

That year, I didnt liveI merely existed.

Sleep was almost a luxury; I spent every waking hour tending to her and my restless son. My mother-in-law needed me at all times, day and night.

Thank goodness I had the funds. I found the finest specialists from across the country to come and examine her. I bought every medicine prescribed, and eventually she returned to her former self. At first, I wheeled her around the parlour, then into the garden. By summers end, she was strong enough to walk without helpthen things changed.

I have no wish to know or hear from her anymore. Let her figure out what she needs for her health on her own. At least, I had the sense not to spend every last penny on her. My son and I now live in our new flat. I never expected our lives to look like this.

I thought I might belong in my husbands mothers home, as I am an orphan myself. But now I see I already belongto myself and my son. He must learn this: not everyone is worthy of kindness. Some people care more about a tidy vegetable patch than those who care for them.