We live together, just Mum and me. My mum is eighty-six years old.
It just happens that I never married, and I dont have any children either. Life unfolded in such a peculiar way for me. Im fifty-seven now; its hard to believe how quickly the years slip by. My birthday was the other day. We celebrated it quietly, just the two of us. Theres really no one else Id inviteno old friends linger, and mum and I dont have other family members around.
We support one another, always have done. I dont know what Ill do when my mum is gone; sometimes the thought catches me off guard and I have to turn it away. Still, shes doing remarkably well. In spite of her age and the slow shuffle of time, she clings to her independenceshe even goes out for walks when she feels up to it.
I’m retired, technically, but I still work part-time as our pensions hardly stretch far enough for a comfortable life. Yet I try not to get down over it. Im grateful every day that I have my dear mum by my side. I remind myself that there are people in far worse circumstances; some have no home to go to, no relatives, or no money at all.
But Mum and I live quietly and peacefully. In the evenings, we make mugs of tea, sit and chat, knit together, and watch our favourite programmes and old films. Weekends are our little treatI bake a Victoria sponge or maybe some scones, and we invite the neighbours round. They share anecdotes about their families. I find joy in their happiness, and in my prayers I wish only that Mum and I are spared any fresh troubles.
This is our life. I only hope it continues this way for as long as possible, for both me and my mum.
