Dear Diary,
Today I took little Tommy out of the tiny flat we share and into the grand shopping centre in Manchester. The bus hummed gently as it rolled past the familiar rows of stone cottages and the market square that have been my whole world. Tommy pressed his nose against the window, his eyes as round and dark as two chocolate coins, marveling at the sight of the city for the first time. I had never been to such a place; even my sister, Lorna, rarely ventured beyond the village lanes. Our life has always been simple: farm, market, home.
Yet this morning something tugged at my heart.
Can we go and see how do you call it, love? I asked, halflaughing.
To the mall, Gran, Tommy replied, proud to have learned the word. The schoolmistress called it a city in a building, and I tucked a smile into my kerchief. I had squeezed every penny from my modest pension and the few extra earnings I make at the gateeggs, fresh herbs, a bunch of parsley, a couple of jars of chutney. I hadnt saved all that for a mall; I saved it to see Tommys face light up.
His father works abroad. He promised to be away for only two years, but four have already slipped by. Tommys mother disappeared years ago, saying she would look for work in the town and never returned. Since then, Tommys world has orbited around my two weary hands, cracked but forever warm.
Dont be embarrassed, Gran, I whispered the night before.
How could I be? Tommy said, his voice as steady as a grown mans. Youre everything to me.
When the bus stopped, the mall rose before us, sleek and cold, its glass walls reflecting the citys sky. I drew a deep breath, feeling as if I were stepping into another realm.
This is a building, not a joke, I muttered to myself.
Come on, Gran, I want to show you inside! Tommy urged.
The automatic doors slid open and I felt a sudden rush, as if the gates of heaven themselves were parting. I crossed myself silently, hoping no one would laugh at my awe. Inside, bright fluorescent lights, music, bustling shoppers, teenagers with branded bags, women in high heels, children dressed like theyd stepped out of a catalogue. It felt like walking onto a film set.
Tommy squeezed my hand, and I clutched his tiny fingers as if they were my most precious treasure.
Look, Gran, there are clothes, toys, even that band you see on TV, he pointed excitedly.
Too many, love too many, I whispered, overwhelmed.
We entered a childrens clothing shop. Garments were neatly arranged by size, bright and orderlynothing like the cramped wardrobe at home where three shirts and two pairs of trousers have been battling for space for years.
Try on whatever you like, a smiling sales assistant suggested.
I blushed. No, were just looking I stammered.
But Tommy was already sliding his fingers over a blue hoodie with a tiny superhero on the chest.
Just to see if it fits, Gran, we wont buy it, he said.
In that moment, all my worriespension, bills, oil, sugar, medicinescame flooding back. Yet above them rose a stronger thought: his childhood.
Try it on, love, I urged, my voice steadier than I felt.
He helped me pull the hoodie over his shoulders; it settled perfectly, as if made for him. Tommy stared at his reflection, and for a heartbeat he was no longer the boy with ragged knees and threadbare clothes, but a child like the ones he sees on the television adverts.
Gran, I look like the city boys now, he whispered, trying not to grin too wide.
My eyes welled up. You were always handsome in those old clothes, but this this seems made for you.
When the price tag appeared, my heart tightened. I imagined how many days of bread, how many kilograms of flour, how many tram rides this sum could buy. I looked again at Tommy, tugging shyly at the hoodies sleeves, as if daring me to let him keep it.
Gran, lets get it. Its a bit pricey, but well have it.
He blinked, surprised. Really, Gran?
Really. And take good care of itthink of it as a promise that one day youll be a man and walk me through these aisles.
We lingered by the toy section, where Tommy stopped at every model car, Lego set, and flashing toy gun. His eyes sparkled, yet he asked for nothing more. At seven, he already knows that wishes are measured in money, and money never falls from the sky but from the cracked palms of an old woman.
Go have a look, love, I said, feeling my knees ache. Gran will be waiting on that bench over there; my legs are getting tired.
We settled on a bench near the escalators. I carefully placed the newly bought hoodie in a canvas sack, hugging it to my chest. A small loaf of bread from the mall bakery rested beside it, a modest piece of my village tucked into this glass world.
Dont go far, Gran, Tommy shouted as he ran toward the toy shop. Ill only be at the next aisle.
Off you go, love, I called, watching him disappear among the crowds of teenagers with paper bags, bright phones, laughing loudly, snapping selfies. No one gave me a second glance; perhaps they thought I was just another old country woman whod lost her way.
But I didnt feel lost. For the first time in years, I felt exactly where I belongedstanding in a whirl of lights, my heart full.
Lord, look at what Hes done Who would have thought Id bring him here? I thought, eyes tracing Tommys small head among the shelves.
My hands, weathered from years of chopping, hauling firewood, and washing clothes, now clutched the sack with his real hoodie. These were the same hands that sliced the first loaf of bread, rocked him when he cried for his mother, wiped his tears when other children mocked his worn boots. Now, trembling not from age but from emotion, they held a symbol of his future.
A young couple sat nearby, their glossy bags spilling over. The girl glanced fleetingly at my bread and my tattered coat, then turned to the shop window. They saw nothing more than a tired old woman, but behind my smile lay a story heavier than all their shopping bags combined.
Gran! Tommys voice cut through the malls clamor. He raced toward me, cheeks flushed with excitement.
I ran up those stairs all by myself! I saw a shop full of balls! And there was a massive screen with cartoons! He babbled, words tumbling as if afraid I wouldnt have time to listen. I watched him, grateful that I hadnt regretted spending on the hoodie and the journey here.
Do you like it? I asked softly.
Its the best place ever, Gran. But you know what? Home with you feels nicer.
Why, love?
Because youre there. I can smell your stew. Here it smells like money.
I laughed, a short laugh with tears at the corners of my eyes.
Youre right, love
I pulled him onto the bench, slipped the hoodie around his neck, gave him a sip of juice and a bite of the warm bread. We sat shoulder to shoulder, a tiny island of calm in the bustling centre.
Around us, people rushed, sales banners flashed, bright adverts blared. No one noticed that two souls sat together, holding onto each others only support.
Gran, Tommy said after a while, chewing on the bread,
Will Mum come home soon? Can you bring her here too?
Ill bring her, love. Well all come together you in your new hoodie, she with her lovely bag, and I, with my old scarf. Youll show her everything, not I.
I felt my heart warm. Beyond the sparkling shop windows, beyond the glitter, true wealth lay right beside me: a sevenyearold boy who never asked for much but had already received everything I could givelove, time, my tired arms.
I whispered to myself, Im not a mall woman. Im a woman of the soil, of war and weaving. Yet if this grand place makes him smile, Ill return tomorrow, the day after, as long as my feet can bear me.
I lifted my gaze to the high glass ceiling.
Lord, watch over us. Keep his father safe wherever he is, his mother wherever she may be. And give me strength in these hands to guide him on the right path.
Tommy didnt hear the prayer, but his small hand found mine as if feeling it.
I love you, Gran, he said simply.
I pressed my cheek to his forehead and smiled. The cold lights of the mall seemed to fade for a moment; they mattered little now.
On that bench, between a canvas sack of bread and a brandnew hoodie, a grandmother and her grandson lived their small miracle: a joy no amount of money can purchaseknowing that, however vast the world may become, someone always waits for you with love, with two old hands but a heart full of tenderness.
