“Julian, honey, I know you care about me, but I’m really too old to change. I won’t have any friends there. No garden. I’ll be bored to death.”
“What do you mean, no friends? You’ll come with us. Clara can take you out. Take you shopping. Here, I’ll let you talk to Clara.”
There was a moment of silence on the line, and then a clear, gentle voice came on like a fresh spring flowing through the tense atmosphere.
“Mom, it’s Clara.”
“Oh, hello, dear.”
I softened my tone.
“Mom, please come and live with us. The condo is spacious, and it will be so much livelier with you here. Julian is always worried about your health. He can’t rest easy with you living all by yourself. You can come here. I’ll take care of you. We can chat. It will be so nice, Mom.”
Clara’s voice had a peculiar persuasiveness. Her warmth and kindness made it impossible to refuse. I knew this girl had a good heart, but I could still sense the compliance in her words. The decision had been Julian’s, and she could only obey.
I sighed, silent for a long moment. My mind was a battlefield. On one side was the freedom and peace I craved after so many storms. On the other was duty, my love for my son, and the fear that if I refused, Julian would fly into a rage.
I was terrified of his anger. I had lived in a hell of anger before, and I did not want to face it again.
“All right, then,” I finally surrendered. “Let me pack for a few days.”
“Oh, wonderful. My husband will be there this weekend to pick you up.”
Clara’s voice was filled with joy.
After we hung up, I stood silently in my vegetable garden. Over the next few days, I began to pack. I didn’t have much: a few old clothes, a faded photo album, and a couple of my favorite books.
As I flipped through the pages of the album, looking at photos of Julian’s bright smile as a child, my heart softened again. Maybe I was overthinking things. After all, he was my son, the boy I had raised with my own two hands. He was bringing me to live with him out of a sense of duty because he was worried about me. I should be happy.
I packed up my past, half a lifetime of memories, and prepared for a new journey. I said goodbye to my neighbors, the old friends with whom I shared morning and evening chats. Everyone was happy for me, saying how lucky I was that my son was taking me to the city to be cared for in my old age.
I just smiled, an incomplete smile.
That weekend, Julian pulled up in a gleaming black luxury sedan. Seeing my son dressed in a tailored suit, looking every bit the successful man, a wave of indescribable pride washed over me. He bustled about, helping me with my things, constantly asking if I was comfortable.
Clara had come with him, and the warm family atmosphere temporarily swept away my worries.
“Mom, look. I bought you a few things.”
Julian opened the trunk, revealing several boxes of expensive vitamins and supplements.
“Oh, you shouldn’t have, spending all this money. I don’t need anything.”
I chided him lovingly.
“I don’t lack money, Mom. Just time to take care of you. I can only work with peace of mind if you’re living with us,” he said, his tone sincere.
The car started, leaving the small town, the old roof, and the familiar garden behind. On the wide highway, skyscrapers gradually rose before us like giants. The noisy, bustling atmosphere of the city left me feeling a little overwhelmed.
Julian and Clara’s condo was on the 18th floor of a high-end residential building. It was much larger than I had imagined, with gleaming hardwood floors and luxurious furniture that spoke of expense and opulence.
Julian led me to a small but well-equipped room with a window overlooking a lush green park.
“This is your room. I’ve had a TV and air conditioning installed for you. If you need anything, just tell Clara. Don’t be a stranger.”
“It’s wonderful, son. Thank you both so much.”
