The Whole Family Came Together to Bake Grandma’s Cake

Granny was packed up by the whole family
Packing Granny up was always a full family affair. With no attempt at subtlety, they told her outright just how much they’d had quite enough of her. And they couldnt help but mention, with thinly-veiled relief, that spring had finally arrived and so, at last, shed be shipped off to the countryside until late autumn. The grandchildren showed her all the warmth of a wet sponge, the daughter-in-law seemed to barely tolerate her, and her son was permanently away on business trips. When he was home, his attitude towards his mother was no warmer than the rest.
She was, to put it mildly, a burden. Granny understood perfectly well and endured it all, pinning her hope each year on springher season of freedom and something that still felt authentic.
That year, spring came early. Granny liked to perch on the front steps, soaking in the gentle English sunshine and admiring the clear sky. She looked rather like a plucked sparrow: thin, dressed in threadbare old clothes, battered Wellington boots, and ill-fitting overshoes. Her family didnt much care for her, but the neighbours were unfailingly kind: they always greeted her, asked after her health, and helped her hobble up to her fifth-floor flat. The local lads sometimes carried her shopping when they saw her plodding home from the shops after school.
Despite her age, Granny did all the houseworkcooking, washing, cleaning. These were her jobs. Her daughter-in-law rarely lifted a finger.
Well, since youre home all day, you may as well do everything, shed say cheerfully, dumping her shoes as she returned from work each evening.
The grandchildren rarely spoke to her. When their friends came over, Granny stayed confined to her room, especially after one of them had said her appearance was downright embarrassing.
Granny never contradicted anyone. She preferred silence. At night, when everyone else was asleep, she would quietly shed a tear in her little bedroom, mourning her lot.
She was sent off to the train station by taxiso no traipsing around on buses, thankfully. Her luggage was light: just an old bag and a small bundle of odds and ends. Leaning on her stick, she shuffled down the platform. She paused at a bench, sat, and soon enough, the train arrived. She found her seat, gazing out the window with a kind, gentle expression. As the train began to move, she fetched out a crumpled photograph from her bag. Her son, grandchildren, and daughter-in-law were smiling in itshe only saw their smiles in that picture these days. Granny kissed it and tucked it away.
Arriving at the village station, she quietly walked off towards her cottage. Someone offered her a lift most of the way home. She opened the creaky garden gate and made her way down the muddy path to her familiar little house. Here, everything was hersher own. Even if it was just the crooked fence, the sagging porch, the battered wallsshe belonged here. Here, she was needed.
This village meant everything to Granny. Here, shed been born. Here, her children were born, and her husband had passed away. Shed lived here nearly half her life. Shed even survived the loss of her eldest son, who didnt live to see this spring.
Granny opened the window shutters and got the fire going. Sitting at her kitchen table, she drifted into memories. Her children had once perched on that bench. Theyd eaten at that table, slept in those beds, played across that floor, peering out those windows. She still heard echoes of childhood laughter. Back then, she was Mumthe most important, the closest.
The sun had shone in her windows just the same, and there had been many springshappy and full of caringlived inside those walls. And she smiled warmly at the welcoming village spring
***
She did not wake up the next morning. She remained, forever, in her home ground. On the kitchen table lay a stack of old photosand one fresh but crumpled, the one with her familys smiles shed kissed the day before.
While we’re alive, there’s still time for so much. To ask forgiveness, to say thank you, to quietly confess how we really feel. While were here, we cant afford to leave those things for ‘later.’ Because, once someones gone, they wont returnand the stones left in our hearts will weigh us down forever.
One must live with faith, honesty, and a generous heart. Cherish and wait, value the feelings of others, and always remember those who gave us life and helped us stand tall.