**A Dream of Letting Go**
“Stay out of my family,” said the son, and blocked my number.
“Mum, how many times? I’m a grown man!” Oliver fidgeted with his hoodie strings, standing in the hallway with a bag in hand.
“Where are you going in this weather? It’s pouring outside!” Margaret glanced out the window, where fat raindrops slid down the glass. “And Ive made dinneryour favourite shepherds pie. Cant it wait?”
“Im thirty, Mum. Thirty! And you still track my every move like Im fifteen.”
Margaret sighed, pressing a tea towel to her chest. He was right, of course. But letting go was so hardhe was her only child, late in life, longed for. Especially after David left, leaving them alone.
“I just worry. After the divorce with Sophie, youve been different. Closed off. Maybe we could talk?”
“Talk about what?” Oliver zipped his coat. “Im fine. Just going to Jamess to watch the match. You know himweve been mates since school.”
“I know James. Good lad. Remember when you two built that treehouse in the garden? Id bring you lemonade and sandwiches”
“Mum, Im late.”
He reached for the door, but she grabbed his sleeve.
“Wait! What if Jessicas there? James has a wifethey might invite friends. Wouldnt you like to meet someone nice?”
“For Gods sake” Oliver groaned. “Mum, stop! Ill sort my own love life.”
“I just want you happy! A proper family, children”
She stopped. His face darkened. Childrenstill a sore subject after the divorce.
Oliver slammed the door behind him. Margaret stood frozen, clutching the tea towel.
In the kitchen, she turned off the oven. No appetite. Shed reheat it laterif he came home tonight.
She sank onto a stool, staring at the empty room. Once, it had been fullDavid with his evening paper, Oliver doing homework at this table, her bustling at the stove. Now, just silence and rain tapping the windowsill.
The phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Margie, its me, Susan. How are you, love? Not brooding?”
Susanher oldest friend since secretarial college.
“Just another row with Oliver. I dont know how to talk to him anymore.”
“What about this time?”
“The usual. Asked where he was going, and he bit my head off. Like Im some villain.”
“Margie, ever think maybe it is hard for him? A man his age, living with Mum”
“But where would he go? No money for rent on his salary. Buying a place aloneyou know how it is.”
“I do. But maybe he doesnt try because its too easy at home. You still cook, clean, fuss like hes ten.”
Margaret wanted to arguebut Susan was right. She did everything for him, just like when he was small.
“But Im his mother! How can I not care?”
“Caring and smothering arent the same. My Ben moved to Manchester at twenty-five. I miss him, but he needed to go.”
After hanging up, Margaret sat thinking. Maybe Susan was right. Maybe shed gone too far.
Oliver returned near midnight, slipping straight to his room. At breakfast, silence. He scrolled through his phone while she served eggs and bacon.
“Ollie, remember when Dad took you to the zoo? You loved the elephants most.”
“Mm.”
“And your first day of schoolso serious with your new satchel”
“Mum, why dredge this up?”
“Time flies. Yesterday you were small, now a grown man.”
He looked up, tired. “If you see that, why treat me like a child?”
“I dont”
“Yesterday, you asked when Id be back. Then rang James to check I was really there. Think I didnt know?”
She flushed. She had called. Just to be sure.
“I was worried”
“Mum, Im thirty! Ive been married, planned kids. Im not a teenager!”
“But”
“But what? You think because I live here, you own every step I take?”
Tears pricked her throat. She only wanted to protect him.
“I want whats best”
“I know. But your best is suffocating me.” He stood. “Dont wait up. Staying at Jamess.”
“Ollie, wait! We can fix thisIll nag less”
“Its not about nagging. I need space. My own life.”
“But Im alone! Dad left, now youwhat do I do?”
“Dont know. But I cant be your whole world.”
The door slammed. Margaret stared at his half-eaten eggs.
Susan called later, unexpectedly siding with Oliver.
“Bens peers all have their own places, families. Its awkward for him.”
“But I dont force him!”
“You make it too easy to stay. Worseyou act like youd fall apart without him.”
Margaret bit back arguments. She *had* clung to him.
Three days passed. No Oliver. On the fourth, his phone rang out”Number unavailable.”
Her heart lurched. Had he changed his number? Without telling her?
She rang James.
“Oliver? He moved out days ago. Got a flat.”
“A flat?! Why didnt he say?”
“Dunno. Guess he wanted to tell you himself.”
Margaret hung up, shaking. A flat! No warning! What if he fell ill? Whod look after him?
She tried his number again. “This number is no longer in service.”
She rushed to Susans.
“Hes gone! Changed his number! Like Im some enemy!”
“Margie, breathe. Sit. Have tea.”
“Tea?! Hell be lost without me! Wholl cook? Wholl”
“Hes thirty. Not a baby.”
“But”
“No buts. You smothered him. The road to hell”
“I wanted whats best!”
“And got the usual.” Susan poured tea. “Love can be holdingor letting go. You held too tight.”
“After David left, Oliver was all I had!”
“And thats the problem. A child isnt a life raft. You need your own world.”
“At fifty-five? What world?”
“Since when does life end? Look at Eileen downstairssixty-two, does amateur theatre, lives full tilt!”
“Shes got no husband, no kids”
“And you have? Husband gone, son moved out. Will you sit waiting?”
Susan was rightbut admitting it was terrifying. Had she loved him wrong?
A week passed in a daze. Work. Meals no one ate. TV she didnt watch.
Then, a knock.
A strangermid-twenties, blonde, kind-eyed.
“Margaret? Im Emily. Olivers were together. May I come in?”
Margaret stepped aside, heart pounding.
“Tea?”
“Thanks.”
They sat. Margaret studied her. Pretty. Polite. Why had Oliver hidden her?
“I came to talk. Oliver hasnt told you”
“No. He doesnt speak to me now.”
“I know why. Were getting married.”
Married. The word squeezed her chest.
“Hes afraid of your reaction. He told me about his exhow you were with her. How you control his life.”
“I dont control! I care!”
“You love him. But your love chokes him.”
“How would you know? Youre not his mother!”
“No. But I love him, and I see his pain. Torn between being a good son and living his life.”
Margaret simmered. This girlfirst meetinglecturing her on motherhood!
“What do you want?”
“Let him go. Truly. No daily calls, no unannounced visits, no unsought advice.”
“And in return?”
“A son who visits because he wants to. A daughter-in-law who doesnt see you as rival. Maybe grandchildren.”
“Grandchildren” The word flickered with hope.
“Yes. If you let us live as we choose.”
Emily stood.
“Think, Margaret. Oliver loves you. But he cant stay your little boy. Hes a man who needs his own family.”
After she left, Margaret sat for hoursangry, wounded, then strangely lighter. Something clicked.
*If I love him, I must let go.*
Next day, she dialed Emilys number.
“Ollie? Its me. I wont interfere. Just knowthe doors open. I love you. And if Emily agrees, Id like to meet her properly.”
Silence. Then, softly:
“Thanks, Mum. That means a lot.”
And in that moment, Margaret understood: she wasnt losing her sonshe was freeing him to be happy. And perhaps, for the first time in yearsfreeing herself too.
