PART 17 – My Mother Said She Missed the Way Things Used to Be, But I Was No Longer Willing to Be the Person Who Made Everything Easy

I read Mom's message again the following morning.

She had written that she missed the way things used to be.

I sat at the wooden table with my coffee and wondered what she meant.

Did she miss our family dinners?

Did she miss having both daughters in the house?

Or did she miss knowing that whenever something went wrong, I would take care of it?

I couldn't answer that question.

I didn't want to guess anymore.

I placed my phone beside the laptop and opened my work schedule.

There were several things I needed to finish.

I concentrated on those instead.

Around lunchtime, my phone rang.

Mom again.

I let it ring twice before answering.

"Hello, Mom."

"Victoria, have you thought about what I said?"

"About what?"

"Coming home."

I looked toward the window.

The pine trees were moving in the wind.

"I'm not coming back right now."

She sighed.

"Your father thinks you're being unreasonable."

I had expected that.

"What does Dad want?"

"He wants to talk about the things you removed."

I closed my eyes.

"Mom, we have already discussed this."

"He says the television belonged in the family room."

"I bought it."

"But everyone watched it."

I took a slow breath.

"That doesn't change who purchased it."

She became quiet.

Then she asked whether I could at least return the coffee machine.

I looked at the empty space beside my kitchen counter.

I remembered buying that machine.

I remembered keeping it in my bedroom because I wanted something that wouldn't constantly be used without being cleaned.

"No, Mom."

She sounded disappointed.

"You're making this very difficult."

I almost asked her how difficult it had been for me.

Instead, I stayed quiet.

She eventually ended the call.

I placed the phone down.

I felt sad.

Not angry.

Sad.

I had wanted a mother I could speak to without having to defend every decision.

I had wanted a father who would ask why his daughter had left before threatening her.

I had wanted a sister who remembered the help she had received.

Those things seemed so ordinary.

Yet I had spent years trying to earn them.

That afternoon, I reviewed the property inventory.

I checked the descriptions again.

The television.

The couch.

The armchair.

The coffee table.

The refrigerator.

The microwave.

The coffee machine.

The washer and dryer.

Every item remained supported by the documents I had collected.

I saved the updated copy.

Then I sent it to my lawyer.

He replied that he had received it.

I returned to work.

Later, Lily sent me a message.

She said Mom had been crying again.

She said I should stop making everything about myself.

I read it twice.

Then I put the phone away.

I remembered paying for her textbooks.

I remembered the car loan.

I remembered the monthly transfers.

I had never told her she needed to repay me with gratitude.

I had simply expected her to understand that my help wasn't unlimited.

Apparently, even that expectation was too much.

That evening, I cooked dinner.

I added rosemary to the chicken and placed it in the oven.

The smell filled the small kitchen.

For a moment, I remembered my mother's dining room.

Then I looked at the wooden table in front of me.

There was only one plate.

I ate slowly.

Afterward, I washed the dishes and wiped the counter.

I didn't have to prepare anything for anyone else.

And I didn't feel guilty about it.

Click here to continue reading: PART 18: I Finally Stopped Answering Every Accusation, Because I Had Spent Enough Years Explaining Why My Own Needs Deserved Space