Inside were photographs, birthday cards, and old letters exchanged between her and Margaret. One letter, written by Mom when I was five, read:
“I don’t know what I would do without you. Laura asks for you every morning. You have given her a safe place when I couldn’t always be there.”
Margaret’s reply was even more touching:
“You are there for Laura in every way that matters. Working to keep a roof over her head doesn’t mean you’ve failed her. Please stop apologizing for letting me love her.”
I looked at Mom through tears.
“She understood,” I said.
“She always did,” Mom replied.
“Then why did you stop letting her help?”
“Because I didn’t understand.”
Mom had spent years believing she owed Margaret a debt. She’d hoped this trip would finally make things even.
But friendship wasn’t a debt that needed repayment.
The following weeks brought changes for all of us. I called Ellen, who admitted that caring for Margaret had become too difficult to manage alone. We discussed finding additional support so neither woman would have to sacrifice her health.
