Victoria’s children rarely reached out to her, except for on Christmas. However, this year, things felt different. After my son, Matthew, discovered I was working as a cleaner at a furniture store, he stopped communicating with me altogether. I feared I would spend the holidays alone until a surprising knock on my door changed everything.
I gripped my broom tightly, pausing my cleaning, as I saw Matthew standing in the doorway of the store. His wide-eyed expression was frozen in shock.
“Matthew!” I called out, a smile spreading across my face as I started walking towards him.
But before I could reach him, he turned and hurried out of the store, leaving me standing there, confused and hurt.
My son had always been loving and affectionate, but things had changed as he grew older. Shaking off my disappointment, I resolved to speak with him later and returned to my work.
After my husband passed away ten years ago, my children – Matthew and Marina – convinced me to sell our family home. They wanted me to downsize into a small apartment and use the remaining money to help fund their businesses.
Their ventures were successful, and their lives grew busier, leaving me feeling increasingly forgotten. Though they seldom called, the holidays were always a time to reconnect.
This year, however, things were different. With retirement money barely covering my bills, I took a job as a cleaner at the mall. It wasn’t easy, but it allowed me to buy Christmas presents for my children and grandchildren. I hadn’t told anyone about my new job, worried about how they might react.
My fears seemed justified after Matthew’s reaction at the store. Hoping to explain, I called him that evening.
“Matthew, about today -” I started.
“I’m busy, Mom. I’ll call you later,” he interrupted, his tone curt before hanging up.
My heart sank. I called Marina next, hoping for some insight.
“Mom, I’m swamped right now. I’ll call you back,” Marina said, brushing me off as well.
As Christmas approached, I realized my children still hadn’t called to discuss holiday plans. Normally, we would celebrate at one of their homes, but this year, I was left in the dark.
Two days before Christmas, I confided in my neighbor, Lorena.
“They haven’t answered my calls or told me where we’re celebrating this year,” I said, holding my coffee cup tightly.