IN THE KITCHEN ON THE SOFA
Theres a comfy little sofa in the kitchen, I reckon you can sleep here for a few days, my son said calmly.
I didnt reply. I was exhausted from the journey, having come home for the holidays right before New Years. The wait at the border was endless, I was frozen, desperate for a shower and a proper meal. My mind was a storm, but I kept quiet.
Id hoped for a warmer welcome, of course. I hadnt been home in three years. Id been working in England, left for work as soon as my son got married.
We had a house, but it was in dire need of renovation, and we simply didnt have the money. We were barely scraping by. I raised my son alone, my wages were meagre, and my ex-husband never helped financially, not even with child support. I had to shoulder everything myself.
When William grew up and decided to marry, I realised there was no point in staying at home I needed to go abroad, like many women do, to secure my own future and help my child.
I went to England, where my cousin had already been working for a few years, and she helped me settle in.
It was tough at first everything was new, the language was foreign, the conditions werent great. We rented a flat, six women squeezed into a two-bedroom place. We could have found something better, but it would have cost more, and each of us was there to earn and save, not to live in luxury.
But month by month, I got used to it. I had a plan bring home enough money to finally renovate our house. I worked hard, barely any time to rest. I kept telling myself it would all be over soon, and Id return home to my family.
Mum, why are you saving all that money? William called me in England one day, asking a strange question.
What do you mean, why? Well fix up our house, I replied, surprised.
Why wait? Lets start now. Youve got some savings, havent you? he said.
At that point, Id managed to save £4,300, which was enough to get started. William took charge, laid out a plan, and I liked everything he suggested.
I didnt even come home, wanting to earn more. Every penny I made, I sent straight to William, eager to see the results.
When I finally returned, I was stunned our house was unrecognisable, looking nothing like it did when I left.
A spacious lounge with floor-to-ceiling windows, elegant expensive furniture, and a huge plasma TV on the wall.
William was proud, happily showing me room after room, reporting on all the work hed done.
I was amazed, everything looked so beautiful and costly, far beyond my expectations. My son had turned out to be a good manager, making wise use of the money.
Its all wonderful, son, well done. But wheres my room? I asked.
There was an awkward pause, then William suggested I sleep on the kitchen sofa, calling it very comfortable.
Mum, its just for your holiday. We thought youd be better off in the kitchen, its warmer, and you wont be in the way. Weve got lots going on, plenty of guests.
Those words hit me like a cold shower. I understood he was grown now, with his own life, but the feeling that I was unnecessary, that Id given everything for him and now had nothing left, was painful.
I spent my nights in the kitchen, listening to William laughing with his friends. I remembered how it all began: how Id struggled to give him the best, and now I felt like a stranger in my own home.
Nice place youve got. Is the house in your name yet? I overheard Williams friend ask from my makeshift room.
Not yet, but Im planning to talk to Mum about it soon she should sign it over to me, Ive put in all the effort and its still not mine. What if Mum decides to get married again? William replied, and they all burst out laughing.
I felt so hurt, words cant describe it. The house is still in my name, and I have no intention of signing it over, especially now that I see how precarious my position is. If theyve put me in the kitchen now, where will I live if I hand the house over completely?
I didnt wait for a conversation with William. I packed my things and returned to England, telling the kids Id been urgently called back to work.
After everything that happened, I realise I have a lot to think about. Maybe its time to stop sending money to William and start saving for a one-bedroom flat for myself. What do you think?
Today, as I write this, Ive learned that self-sacrifice is noble, but its just as important to look after your own future.
