For ten years, I worked as a cook in my sons household, and never saw a hint of gratitude.
Shed once been a teacher, retiring at fifty-five. For ten years afterwards, she lived with her sons family. I ran into her recently, and she shared her delight at retiring for the second time.
I still remember when she first moved in with her son after giving up her job. Her own flat she simply locked up no thought of letting it out, maybe she was worried about strangers, who knows?
Her relationship with her daughter-in-law was rather pleasant hardly any rows, no real disputes. It was remarkable how peacefully they managed the day-to-day together.
Im convinced this lady performed a real feat. Life under one roof began when her grandson was just one, and she stayed until he was nearly eleven.
When her daughter-in-law went back to work, all the household responsibilities fell onto her. I dont know any better word for it it was a burden. The childcare especially not everyone would take it on.
From sunrise to sunset she was nanny, cook, cleaner rolled into one. The young couple would come home around seven oclock, and only then could she put her feet up, until the next day began all over again.
When the boy started school, that meant another routine: the bus! She took him to lessons herself, and picked him up too right up to Year Five. Of course, the chores of cooking and cleaning never paused.
Shed tell me sometimes she was so tired in the evening she couldnt even watch the telly would nod off where she sat.
No chats with friends, no hobbies. On special occasions, the young pair would go celebrating with their pals and guess who stayed behind with the little one?
And the boy was nearing ten. In all honesty, I think that retired teacher might still be slogging on in their home if not for a twist of fate.
One day, she happened to overhear her daughter-in-law whisper to her son: Your mum seems to use too much washing powder in the laundry thats why the sheets smell like chemicals. Go on, tell her, gently. So shed been handling their washing a decade, and not a word until then!
The woman bit her lip, tried not to let it wound her too much.
Then came the second blow. The daughter-in-law suggested the spare room should go to the boy, and the gran could move into the hallway room. That was when she realised it was time to leave.
She packed up, unlocked her flat, polished it up, and moved back in. What happened then? Her son and his wife took offence that shed gone. Perhaps they thought shed keep working for them to the end of her days. You get used to it, dont you?
Whats saddening is that no one really missed her. It was as if it was only natural for her to scrub and cook and tidy, day after day. As though she never got tired, and had no life of her own.
They stopped talking to her altogether. But shes an optimist, convinced things will get better.
Now, though, she finally has joy again: she can live for herself. No clock-watching. No obligations. And what does one really need, after all?
Sixty-five, and happiness comes knocking again. You know the song? Second youth returns to those who kept the first? Well, she truly felt that magic release allowed, at last, to live her own life, free of duty.
Say what you like about it, but such selflessness is rare.
Its hard for others to appreciate it even our own children, perhaps. You quickly become accustomed to someone cooking, tidying, setting the table, and clearing it away. Folding fresh laundry. Knowing your childs safe: fed, put to bed, homework done. Yes, its easy to get used to it all.
