“Look, I was just being honest with her,” Dad said, his tone defensive.
“Somebody’s gotta tell her the truth before the world does.”
“Tell her the truth?” I repeated, my voice sharp now.
He made a noise of irritation. “That woman is never home. Always off saving strangers.
What kind of mother does that?”
My breath came slow and steady, every inch of me vibrating with anger. “The kind that works twelve-hour shifts as a 911 dispatcher so that people can survive their worst days. The kind that stays up late with Lily doing science projects after she’s worked a double shift.”
“She should put her family first,” Dad grumbled.
My voice rose, heat pouring into every word.
“She does! She’s been working extra shifts to help her parents through a tight spot. You don’t get to tear her down because you don’t understand it.”
“Watch your tone, Carl,” he snapped.
“I’m just looking out for my granddaughter, and for you as well.”
“No,” I said firmly, “you’re not. You’re looking out for your old, outdated version of what a mother should be.”
I ended the call then and went back to the kitchen. I had a Christmas dinner to prepare for my family.
Later that day, I was standing in the kitchen stirring gravy when I heard the front door creak open.
“Mommy!” Lily’s scream came first, and the sound of her little feet pounding toward the entryway followed.
I turned just in time to see Sarah drop her bag and catch Lily mid-leap.
“Oh, I missed you so much, baby,” Sarah said, her eyes shut tight as she hugged Lily close.
“I love you more than anything.”
“Me too, Mommy,” Lily whispered into her neck.
I watched them from the kitchen, feeling the weight in my chest finally lift.
“Welcome home, honey,” I said, approaching to hug them both. “Christmas dinner will be ready in a few more minutes.”
Sarah grinned at me as she leaned in to give me a quick kiss. “Thanks, Carl.
You’re the best.”
That night, after Lily was asleep, and the dishes were done, I sat on the edge of the couch, phone in hand.
He picked up on the second ring. “You calling to apologize, son?”
“No,” I said quietly but firmly. “I’m calling to tell you that if you ever make my daughter doubt her mother’s love again, you won’t be welcome in this house.
Not on Christmas. Not on any day.”
There was silence on the other end.
“Do you understand me?” I asked.
“…I hear you,” he muttered.
“Good,” I replied, then hung up. I didn’t wait for him to say anything else.
For the first time in a long while, I felt like I’d done right by my family.
Do you have any opinions on this?
