“You’ve worked so hard to get where you are. I didn’t want you to give up your savings or worry about this. This was something I needed to do.”
I sighed.
“So, what’s the plan?” I asked. “You’re going to save up enough money and… what? Take Lily on a road trip?”
“Exactly,” Mom nodded.
“A road trip. Just me, Anna, and Lily. We’d see the ocean, the Grand Canyon, the mountains.
Wherever she wants to go.”
I shook my head, still trying to process everything. “And you were going to do all of this… alone?”
“I was going to try,” she said quietly. “For Lily.”
I sat in silence for a moment, the weight of her words settling in.
My mom, who had never driven a day in her life, was learning to drive at 65. She was ready to do everything to make her granddaughter’s dream come true. The next morning, I called Anna.
“Hey, we need to talk,” I told her. “What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned. “It’s about Lily… and Mom.”
I explained everything, from the taxi driving to the road trip plan.
There was a long silence on the other end of the line before Anna finally spoke, her voice trembling. “She did all of this for Lily?”
“Yeah,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. “But we’re not letting her do it alone.”
By the end of that week, we had a plan in place.
We rented a small RV. It wasn’t fancy, but it had everything we needed for a road trip. Mom would drive, but I’d be there to help navigate.
Anna arranged her work schedule, and we told Lily we had a surprise for her. When we sat Lily down to tell her, her eyes sparkled with excitement. “A trip?” she asked.
“Like, a real trip?”
“Yes, sweetheart,” Mom said, pulling her into a hug. “We’re going to see the ocean, the mountains, and everything you’ve ever wanted to see!”
“I get to see the ocean?” Lily asked with a smile. “Oh, wow!”
“Yes,” I said, smiling at her.
“We’re going to see it all.”
The trip was everything we’d hoped for. We watched Lily’s eyes widen in awe as she gazed out at the Grand Canyon, her laughter echoing across the vast landscape. We stood on a beach in California, her little feet sinking into the sand as the waves lapped at her ankles.
She chased seagulls, built sandcastles, and marveled at the endless stretch of water before her. One night, we found ourselves camping in the mountains, the sky above us filled with stars. Lily lay between Mom and me, her eyes scanning the constellations.
“Grandma,” she whispered, “I think this is my favorite night.”
Mom smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Lily’s face. “Mine too, my love.”
On our final night, we sat around a campfire. The flames crackled softly, and the scent of toasted marshmallows filled the air.
Lily hugged Mom tightly, her small arms wrapped around her neck. “Thank you, Grandma,” she whispered. “This is the best Christmas ever.”
Mom’s eyes glistened with tears as she held her.
“Anything for you, my love.”
When we returned home, things felt different. Lily’s condition began to worsen, and we all knew what was coming. But she carried those precious memories of the ocean, the stars, and the best night of her life, and it made all the difference.
The day we said goodbye to her was the hardest of my life. But as heartbreaking as it was, I knew one thing for certain. My mom was a hero.
Sometimes, heroes don’t wear capes. They don’t need to. They just need a little courage, a lot of love, and, in my mom’s case, a taxi driver’s license.
