“You gave us quite a scare, Evelyn.”
Mom sighed.
“So I’ve been told.”
We spent the afternoon looking through old photographs and sharing memories.
Margaret remembered things I’d completely forgotten.
The day I lost my first tooth.
The yellow sweater she’d knitted for me.
The afternoon I insisted on baking Mom a birthday cake and accidentally used salt instead of sugar.
I listened in amazement.
For decades, those memories had existed inside someone else’s heart, waiting for us to find each other again.
Before leaving, I
thanked Margaret.
“For everything you did for Mom and me.”
She shook her head.
“Your mother worked very hard, Laura. I just helped make sure you were cared for while she was working.”
“That wasn’t a small thing,” I told her.
Margaret squeezed my hand.
“No,” she admitted softly. “I suppose it wasn’t.”
Over the following months, Ellen arranged additional support for her mother.
Mom continued visiting Margaret, but only for short stays, with no expectation that she would provide full-time care.
