Emily Wilson married late in life—at thirty-one, much to her mother’s dismay. She had a pleasant appearance: grey eyes, light brown hair that curled just past her shoulders, and a gentle smile.
“You should have found a husband sooner, instead of studying and being so shy. Your friends chose the best suitors,” grumbled Anne, Emily’s mother. “Now you’re left with whatever’s available. I don’t like that John of yours. His parents are simple country folk, but he’s got more arrogance than sense… What’s this nonsense?”
John did have a difficult personality: domineering, conceited, and intolerant. But this only became clear after Emily married him. At first, he behaved well—courted her charmingly, gave her flowers, and paid attention.
Once the early romantic phase of their marriage passed, John began showing his true nature, making snide remarks to Emily over every little thing, never considering that his harsh, lecturing tone might hurt her. Emily tried her best to keep the family together. She listened to her husband, worked at an engineering design firm where she was respected, managed the household, and still John only scowled and took his bad moods out on her.
Their son Anthony was born, and when the boy fell ill and kept them up at night, John withdrew completely, moving to the spare room so he wouldn’t be disturbed.
When Anthony was four, they divorced. Emily, exhausted by her husband’s behaviour, decided to raise their son alone, and John agreed to the split with a casualness that hurt her most of all. As it turned out, he already had someone else to go to. Fortunately, John quickly moved to another city with his new wife, which made things easier for Emily—at least she wouldn’t run into her ex on the street.
Emily poured all her affection into her only son, Anthony.
“Emily,” her mother often said, “you’re still young and pretty. You could remarry, or at least find a companion…”
But Emily ignored Anne and worked hard to provide for her son. She saved every penny for Anthony’s education and future wedding, denying herself everything. The child support from John was meagre.
Anthony grew up, did well at school, and in his final years took extra lessons to prepare for university. Emily inspired him with her profession, and by the time he finished his studies, he knew his mother had arranged a job for him at her firm.
“I’ll be retiring soon, and you’ll join us as a young specialist! I’ve convinced the director. He’s known our family for years and promised to take you on,” Emily said happily.
Anthony returned home and started working at the same design firm where his mother had spent years.
“I won’t let you down!” he hugged her. “And you’ll be relaxing soon… A changing of the guard!”
A year later, Emily retired at fifty-five. By then, Anthony had found a girlfriend, Nancy. She was a pretty blonde with curves and slender legs. Anthony was head over heels, and the couple were planning their wedding.
Emily was happy for her son. Only one thing cast a shadow: her mother’s failing health. Anne had just turned eighty, and ambulances frequently stopped outside her building. Emily spent some nights at her mother’s when she was especially unwell, then rushed back to her own flat, but visited every day, bringing food and medicine. Anne would ask about the young couple, the weather, and Emily’s own health.
“I’ll be gone soon, my dear,” Anne said. “But my heart aches for you. Not for Anthony—he’s not alone, he has a wife. They’re young, healthy, strong. But you spent your whole life raising him, supporting him, teaching him. You saved for his wedding, and we gave them money for a car. Everything for him. You never remarried, never travelled to the seaside or the south… I feel sorry for you. And now I’ve been ill for two years, and you’re still looking after me.”
“Oh, Mum, I don’t regret anything. Anthony is the light of my life,” Emily began.
“Exactly—the light of your life, but that’s not right. You spoiled him… It’s been six months since their wedding, and they haven’t visited me once. They know I’m sick, on my deathbed… Maybe I’ll never see them again. And they don’t come to see you either. Is that right?” Grandmother Anne was worried.
“Come on, Mum, they’re in their honeymoon period. They don’t have time for us. Besides, they’re working…” Emily defended her son and daughter-in-law.
“No,” Anne shook her head. “That’s not it. A mother is a mother. You did so much for him… You can’t forget that. Not in sorrow, not in joy… You spoiled him, after all.”
Emily stayed silent. Then she called Anthony and asked him to visit his grandmother, as she wasn’t feeling well.
Anthony came with Nancy. They sat with Anne for half an hour, drank tea, then hurried home. They lived with Nancy’s parents in a house.
Anne passed away. Emily cried, grieving for her mother and a little for herself. Her mother’s words echoed in the long evenings as Emily sat alone by the window, remembering how her son used to come home from work around this time, and she would set the table, and they would exchange news… Now she was alone.
But Emily pulled herself together and took a job at a nursery school, to everyone’s surprise.
“You have a degree, and you’re mopping floors at your age?” the neighbours said. She replied, “It’s fine. I spent my whole life at a desk, drawing plans. I need to move around. My mother worked as a nursery teacher when she was young; I used to love visiting her after school.”
Emily had a small pension; she’d spent all her savings on her son. Though she was used to living modestly, now she wanted a bit more financial freedom. The work took time and energy, but at least she wasn’t lonely. Moreover, on her neighbour’s insistence, she joined a folk choir at the community centre, and her life became much more interesting.
Emily kept herself busy partly to avoid bothering Anthony and Nancy, not wanting to interfere in their private life, though it hurt that her son rarely visited and only called when he needed something.
Now and then, she would cry in the evenings, leafing through an album of her son’s childhood photos. To ease the loneliness, she got her favourite pictures of them together printed large at a photo shop, framed them like paintings, and hung them all over the flat.
She would stop by a photo and touch her son’s face, smiling. Sometimes she imagined he smiled back. Then came the wait for a phone call, and the joy when he occasionally dropped by for tea or to pick up some of his old things.
Anthony never stayed long. He didn’t even notice the framed photos at first. When he finally did, he stopped, looked at his mother, and asked in surprise, “What made you hang these?”
“Oh, just…” Emily hesitated. “I’m not young anymore, and I remember that golden time when you were little…”
Anthony nodded and rushed home to his wife, not really understanding his mother’s “quirks.” But it felt as though her mother were helping from heaven. Emily also made a friend from the choir.
“Well, Emily, we only have three men in the group, and you’ve taken one away! We couldn’t charm him for years, and you made him fall for you in no time!” the choir members laughed openly. “That’s what being new does!”
Everyone laughed, and the “smitten” Nicholas himself kissed Emily’s hand as he walked her home after rehearsals.
Emily didn’t take the friendship seriously and kindly accepted the attentions of the sixty-five-year-old soloist. But he was persistent and practically worshipped her.
“Emily, you have no idea how wonderful it is to be with you. You’re clever, a good listener, calm, and so beautiful.”
“Alright, alright… Don’t praise me too much, or I’ll get a big head. I believe you, and I could say the same about you. Besides, you’re so talented! You should be performing on a big stage.”
“I’ve wanted to quit my concerts for a long time. I can sing at home during holidays; my children enjoy listening. But I joined the group ten years ago because I was widowed, and the evenings alone became unbearable. Here, we have a talented director, performances, small celebrations—our meetings. And now I won’t leave; I want to be with you.”
Emily would go home, look at the photos again, and sigh. Anthony still called rarely, and no amount of singing, work, or kind friends could replace that communication.
But she endured and cherished her son’s rare visits. Lately, he had been hinting that it would be nice to sell his grandmother’s flat to help him and Nancy buy their own place.
“Are you not getting along with her family?” Emily asked, worried.
“No, it’s fine, but Nancy wants our own flat,” Anthony hedged.
“Well then, you’re welcome to move in tomorrow!” Emily told her son. “It’s a small two-bedroom post-war flat, but it’ll be enough for a young family.”
“Really?” Anthony beamed. “You’re the best mum in the world! I’ll go tell Nancy. We’ll have our own place!”
“Hold on, son. The flat stays in my name,” Emily stopped him. “I’m not transferring it to anyone yet. You live there happily and give me grandchildren.”
Anthony left. Soon he and Nancy moved into the cosy flat. As his mother had asked, a year later a daughter was born, bringing joy to the whole family, especially the new parents.
Emily had left her job, realising it was time to focus on her granddaughter and her own health. Her suitor, Nicholas, was so persistent that he finally persuaded her to move in together, and they became a couple, splitting their time between two flats.
Emily got used to being a grandmother and a partner, amazed at how quickly her life had changed. She thanked Nicholas for her “second spring,” and he never stopped rejoicing in his love and thanking fate for their meeting.
The young family was doing well too. Anthony became more attentive to his mother, visiting more often. One day he brought up swapping flats.
“We’re having a second child, Mum,” he began.
“Yes, I know, and I’m very happy,” Emily smiled.
“Nancy asked me to talk to you about you moving into Grandma’s flat, and us moving into yours. Yours is bigger—ten square metres more, a period property. It’ll be more comfortable for two children.”
“And why does Nancy always ask through you, and never speak to me herself?” Emily smiled. “Because she knows I can’t say no to you? Why doesn’t she ask her parents to move into Grandma’s flat, and you take their spacious house? She’s their only daughter. The children would have so much room!”
Anthony blushed and left. Emily didn’t rush to please her son. She had grown used to her own flat. Every little thing was within reach, everything in its place, familiar and lived-in—she could find a needle blindfolded.
Her mother’s words echoed: “You spoiled him, Anthony, oh, you spoiled him…” And Emily decided not to hurry. A second granddaughter was born, adding many pleasant tasks to the family. The girls grew up close, sharing a small room, and on weekends they would visit either Grandma Emily or Nancy’s parents. There they had space in the yard, a garden with a gazebo, swings, and berry bushes.
Emily and Nicholas began living together in her flat, renting out his flat for extra income. They enjoyed going to the theatre and taking short one- or two-day trips, which prompted them to move in together.
Only twelve years later, when Nicholas passed away, did Emily move into her mother’s flat—the flat of her childhood.
“There, son, take our flat and live there. The small one is enough for me,” she told him. “I’ve travelled and sung enough. Now I’ll stay home, wait for the girls’ visits, and for you too. Don’t abandon me.”
Her son hugged her and helped her move into the walls she’d known as a child, giving the place a fresh coat of paint.
Emily didn’t change the furniture, just hung the large photographs of her son, her mother, and herself in her youth. On the side table stood a portrait of Nicholas.
“So here we all are together,” Emily smiled, calm and bright, looking at the faces of her loved ones in the photos. “What more could I wish for? The familiar walls and the warmth of my dear ones.”
Her granddaughters visited often. They loved staying overnight in their usual little room, where their beds still stood, and their chatter, laughter, and jokes would go on for hours.
“Come on, girls, time for bed!” their grandmother would call from the main room. “You magpies… Early start tomorrow. I’m going to teach you how to make cheese pancakes. You’ll be brides soon, and I’ll be giving you a cooking exam myself!”
