I had such grand hopes that my mother would finally retire, pack up for the countryside, and leave her three-bedroom flat to me and my husband.
Let me tell you about my neighbour, Margaret. Shes 68 now, a quietly eccentric woman who lived alone in her airy flat with three rooms and faded floral wallpaper. Just recently, in a twist that felt utterly bizarre, Margaret decided to let out her flat and set off on a peculiar adventure of her own.
Her daughter, Susan, stopped by looking disjointed, as if shed walked barefoot through a forest of confusion. She poured herself some tea in my kitchen and sighed loudly:
“What is Mum doing? Shes disappointed me so much! Now my mother-in-laws shrieking that Ill lose my wits in old age too. She says, The apple doesnt fall far from the tree. And to top it off, my husband and I have just taken out a car loan! Were two months behind on payments. We were counting on Mumshes supposed to help! But instead, shes abandoned us: let out her flat and vanished on a trip!”
I peered at Susan, startled, as if shed told me rain was falling upwards: why should her mother pay off their car loan? As she rambled on, Susans words grew more frantic:
“And now my mother-in-laws absolutely furious about us living in her house, and Mums just let herself go wandering!”
I reckoned Susan was chasing after a scrap of sympathy from me. But deep down, I felt Margaret had done exactly as she ought. She was perfectly entitled to her own happiness and whims. Why do people assume that, the moment a woman retires, she owes every ounce of herself to her children and grandchildren? Its not fair! I asked Susan:
“Why dont you rely on yourself and your husband instead? Over fifteen years of marriage, couldnt you have saved for your own home? Then your mother-in-law wouldnt have anything to grumble about.”
Susan let out another sigh, staring at her tea as if each swirl might answer her problems:
“Wed hoped so much that when Mum retired, shed move to the countryside, and wed simply get her three-bedroom flat!”
I couldnt resist teasing her:
“What if Margaret found herself a husband? My friend once went on holiday to Corfu, met a lovely gentleman and now lives blissfully there. Perhaps Margaret will do something just as unpredictable.”
Susan stared at me, wide-eyed and silent, as though Id spoken in riddles. Id recently stumbled upon pictures of Margaret online, smiling beneath a sky wild with colour. She wrote that she was enjoying herself, soaking up life. I felt delighted for her. Shed chosen rightly. Age is no barrier to happiness; its simply another ticket for strange and wonderful adventures.
