**Diary Entry**
I became an orphan at six years old when my mother passed away giving birth to my youngest brother.
I remember it clearlythe screams, the neighbours gathered, weeping, until her voice faded. Why didnt they call a doctor? Why not take her to hospital? To this day, I dont understand. Was the village too remote? The roads too rough? There must have been a reason. She died in childbirth, leaving us alone with little baby Olivia.
Father, lost without her, had no family nearbythey were all down South. The neighbours urged him to remarry quickly. Barely a week after the funeral, he was engaged.
They suggested the village schoolteachera kind-hearted woman, they said. And so, he asked, and she accepted. Perhaps he charmed her? He was young, handsometall, dark-eyed, the sort to turn heads.
One evening, he brought her home to meet us. *”Ive brought you a new mother!”*
A bitter ache twisted in my chest. The house still smelled of our mother. We wore dresses shed sewn and washed with her own hands, and here he was, presenting a stranger. Now, older, I understandbut back then, I hated him for it. And her, too.
They stood arm in arm, both slightly tipsy. *”Call me ‘Mum,’ and Ill stay,”* she said. I turned to my younger sister. *”Shes not our mother. Ours is dead. Dont call her that.”*
My sister cried. I, the eldest, glared. *”No, we wont call you Mum! Youre a stranger!”*
*”Such rudeness!”* she snapped. *”Fine, then I wont stay.”*
She stormed out. Father hesitated on the doorstep, then came back, pulled us close, and sobbed. We cried with him. Even tiny Olivia wailed in her cradle. We mourned our mother; he mourned his wife. Yet, in our tears lay a deeper grieforphans’ sorrow is universal.
Father stayed two more weeks before leaving for forestry work in the Highlands. What choice did he have? No other jobs in the village. He left money with a neighbour for food, placed Olivia with another, and was gone.
Alone, we shivered through the days. The neighbour cooked and left. The village frettedhow to help? We needed a woman whod take strange children as her own.
Then came word of a distant cousin, abandoned by her husbandchildless, or perhaps her children had died. They sent a letter, and Aunt Mabel summoned Jenny for us.
Father was still away when she arrived. She moved so quietly, we woke to the clink of dishes. The smell of pancakes filled the air! Peeking through the door, we watchedJenny scrubbed floors, tidied, humming. *”Come, my little blondes,”* she calledodd, since we *were* fair-haired, like Mum.
We ate her pancakes, trusting her at once. *”Call me Aunt Jenny.”*
She bathed us, washed our clothes, then left. But she returned. Day by day, the house brightened under her care. Three weeks passed. She was strict, rarely smilingunlike Mum, whod sung and danced, calling Father *”James.”*
*”Will your father accept me?”* Jenny once asked. I nearly ruined it. *”Hes wonderful! Quiet! When he drinks, he just sleeps!”*
*”Drinks often?”*
*”Yes!”* piped my sister. I elbowed her. *”Only at festivals!”*
Jenny left, thoughtful. Father returned that night, stunned. *”I expected chaosyou live like princesses!”*
We told him everything. *”Well,”* he mused, *”lets meet this new mistress. Whats she like?”*
*”Pretty!”* my sister chirped. *”Makes pancakes! Tells stories!”*
Looking back, I smile. Jenny wasnt prettythin, plain, unremarkable. But children see true beauty.
Father laughed, dressed smartly, and fetched her from Aunt Mabels. Next morning, she hovered nervously on our threshold.
I whispered to my sister, *”Shall we call her ‘Mum’?”*
Together, we cried, *”Mummys here!”*
Father and Jenny brought Olivia home. To her, Jenny *was* Mummeticulous, devoted. Olivia forgot our mother; my sister did, too. But I remembered… and once, overheard Father whisper to Mums photo: *”Why so soon? You took my joy with you.”*
I left for boarding school at tenno proper schooling in the village. By technical college, I was eager to escape. Why? Jenny never mistreated me. She cared as her own. Yet I held back. Ungrateful, perhaps.
I became a midwifeno accident. I cant turn back time to save my mother. But I can save another.
**Lesson learned:** Family isnt always blood. Sometimes, its the one who stays.
