I live with my mother. Shes 86 now.
It just turned out that I never married, nor do I have any children. Thats simply how my life unfolded, rather unexpectedly. Now, Im 57. My birthday was not long ago. We celebratedjust the two of us, my mother and me. There really isnt anyone else to invite. I dont have any friends, and neither of us has any other family left.
We share our little home, always looking out for one another. Mum is really quite remarkable for her age. Even though each year seems to bring more troubles with her health, she refuses to give in. She still insists on taking her walks around the neighbourhood, even on her own.
Ive already retired, but I still take on some work because our pensions just dont quite stretch far enough for a comfortable life. Still, I dont let that bring me downI feel so grateful to have my dear mum with me. There are plenty of people worse off than ussome with no flat of their own, no relatives, and not enough money to get by.
Mum and I lead a quiet and peaceful life. In the evenings, we brew up some tea, do a bit of knitting, and watch our favourite programmes and old British films together. On the weekends, I enjoy bakingwe usually have some cake, and I invite the neighbours over. Theyll chat about their families, sharing stories. I feel genuinely pleased when others are happy, and I always hope that mum and I are spared any serious worries.
Thats how we spend our days. I just wish this simple, calm life could last as long as possible for the both of us.
