Isabella, my cousin, is at the peak of her life. She is 40, and her daughter Eleanor is 22. Isabella got pregnant at age 17 with a scumbag boyfriend, who fled to another city. She devoted herself to her daughter at first but then enrolled in school to provide a better life for her daughter. Despite all these troubles, she never managed to find a husband.
Isabella got a gift certificate for her anniversary from me to go to a spa. I invited myself along because we’re old enough, independent, and self-sufficient to spend evenings doing something other than drinking coffee. After a day of procedures, Isabella got younger, blossomed, changed her hairstyle, and got a manicure and pedicure. At last, she wore a semi-formal dress and heels. It was as if she had stepped off the red carpet. She deserves a chance to conquer the world.
We decided to share Isabella’s dramatic transformation in a cozy restaurant with her daughter, who would bless her mother for the upcoming chapter.
But Eleanor was not impressed by her mother’s charm. Instead, she asked why she looked younger if no one liked her anymore.
Eleanor replied sarcastically with a wry smile. “You, Madison, should have thought of something more practical to give to my mom, not something that wouldn’t last long.”
I opened my mouth in surprise as soon as I heard that.
A tear rolled down Isabella’s cheek as she secretly wiped it away. This is what her daughter is like, she thought to herself.