The son wanted to take his mother back to the care home. He glanced into the box before leaving.
After her husband passed away, Evelyn sold her countryside cottage, invested in a flat for her son and his family, and moved in with them. For as long as she had strength, she took care of the house and her grandchildren.
Her son and daughter-in-law worked, while Evelyn took the little ones to nursery, then later to school and extracurriculars. She cooked, cleaned, and never once complainedin fact, it made her happy. After all, her family needed her. But the years rolled by. The grandchildren grew up and “left the nest,” while Evelyns health declined. She tried to wash the dishes, but the plates slipped from her frail hands and shattered.
She poured herself some soup but couldnt carry it to the tableit spilled. She woke at night for a drink of water, but her shuffling disturbed her daughter-in-law. No one spoke to her anymore. Whod want to chat with an old woman? Her daughter-in-law scolded her constantly, calling her a burden. What was her crime? Growing old isnt a joy. Evelyn had no choice but to endure.
Her son decided to move her into a care home.
“At least shell have someone to talk to,” he told himself, easing his conscience. That morning, as they climbed into the car, Evelyn remembered her box.
“Oliver, fetch my box. I forgot it,” she asked timidly.
“What box?” Oliver replied.
“My treasures,” Evelyn explained, describing it. Oliver brought it over, and the old woman clutched it to her chest with a soft smile.
“Mum, whats in there?”
She opened itinside lay a lock of his baby hair and a milk tooth.
The man stepped away from the car and sat on the kerb. He stayed there a long while, thinking of his childhood, how his mother had always been therecaring, protecting, never leaving him without help.
“Son, are we going?” His mother stepped out of the car and approached him.
“Were not going anywhere, Mum. Youre staying home.”
