**Diary Entry**
They saw me as free childcare and a cookuntil they spotted me at the airport with a one-way ticket.
“Nina, hello! Am I interrupting?” My daughter-in-law, Katies voice chirped down the line, feigning cheerfulness.
I stirred the long-cold soup in silence. *Interrupting?* I was never too busy when they needed something.
“Im listening, Katie.”
“Weve got *huge* newsan absolute bombshell! Leo and I just booked a last-minute holiday to Spain! Two weeks, all-inclusive. Can you believe it?”
I could. Sun, sea, Leo and Katie. And somewhere, just out of frametheir five-year-old son, Milo. My grandson.
“Congratulations. Im thrilled for you,” I said flatly, the words as dry as a medical leaflet.
“Brilliant! So youll take Milo, wont you? He cant go to nurserytheres chickenpox going round.”
*And swimming lessons he shouldnt miss. And speech therapy next week. Ill send you the schedule.*
She spoke in a rush, not letting me get a word in, as if she feared I might refuse. Though I never did.
“Katie, I was planning to go to the cottage for a few days while the weather holds” I began, barely believing my own weak attempt.
“The *cottage*?” Her voice dripped with disbelief, as though Id announced a trip to the moon. “Mum, honestlypriorities! Milo needs you. Were not off on some jolly, we *need* this break. Sea air, vitamin D!”
I stared out the window at the grey drizzle. *My* sea air. *My* vitamins.
“Oh, and one more thing,” she barrelled on, “the premium cat food delivery arrives Wednesdaytwelve kilos. The couriers window is ten till six, so youll need to be in. And dont forget the plants, especially the orchid. Shes fussy.”
She listed my duties like it was the most natural thing in the world. I wasnt a personjust a function. A free, convenient app for their comfortable lives.
“Fine, Katie. Of course.”
“*Perfect*! I knew we could count on you!” she trilled, as if shed granted me a great favour. “Right, must dashpacking to do!”
The line went dead.
I set the phone down slowly. My gaze landed on the wall calendar, where a red circle marked next Saturdaythe day I was meant to meet my friends, the ones I hadnt seen in nearly a year.
I grabbed a damp cloth and wiped the mark away in one swift motion. Erasing another tiny fragment of my own unlived life.
No anger, no bitternessjust a sticky, hollow ache and one quiet, crystal-clear question: *When will they realise Im not just a free service, but a person?*
Perhaps only when they see me at the airport with a one-way ticket.
Milo arrived the next day. Leo hauled in a massive suitcase, a swim bag, and three carrier bags of toys, avoiding my eyes.
“Mum, weve got to dashflights soon,” he muttered, dumping the suitcase in the hall.
Katie fluttered in behind him, already in holiday modefloral dress, floppy hat. Her sharp eyes swept over my modest flat.
“Nina, dont let Milo watch too much telly, will you? Books are better. And go easy on sweetshe gets hyper.”
She thrust a folded sheet of paper at me. *The schedule.* Mealtimes, allergies, contact numbers. As if I hadnt raised him since infancy while they built their careers.
“Katie, I know what he likes,” I said quietly.
“Knowing isnt the same as *dietary requirements*,” she snapped. “Right, Milo, be good for Granny! Well bring you back a *big* toy!”
They left in a cloud of expensive perfume and a lingering draft.
Milo sobbed for three days straight. Swimming lessons across town, speech therapy on the other side. Tantrums, tears, endless *I want Mummy*. I was exhausted.
On day four, I called Leo. Theyd just checked into their hotel.
“Mum? Everything alright? Is Milo okay?” His voice was tense.
“Milos fine. Leo I need to talk. This is too much. Could you hire a nanny for a few hours? Id pay half.”
Silence. Then a weary sigh.
“Mum, *come on*. We just got here. Katies been stressed enough. Whod we even trust? Youre his *grandmother*. This should be *joyful* for you.”
“Joy doesnt cancel out exhaustion. Im not getting younger.”
“Youre just out of practice,” he cajoled. “Youll adjust. Lets not ruin the holiday, eh? We *never* get away. Katies calling megotta go.”
The line died. I stared at the phone, something inside me hardening. Not anger. Just cold, clear understanding. To him, I wasnt *Mum*I was a resource. Reliable, tested, and above all, *free*.
On Wednesday, the cat food arrived. The courier dumped the twelve-kilo sack on the doorstep and muttered something about *contactless delivery*. I strained my back dragging it inside, then sat on the floor beside it and laugheda silent, hollow laugh.
That evening, Katie called. Sea waves and music in the background.
“Nina! Hows my orchid? Only filtered water, remember? And at the *roots*, not the leaves!”
She didnt ask about Milo. Didnt ask about me. Just the orchid.
“Of course, Katie. All under control,” I replied, eyeing the damned cat food.
That night, I barely slept. Not thinking of the cottage or my cancelled plans. Instead, I pulled out my old savings book and passport, tracing the covers with my fingers.
The thought Id had days ago wasnt just a fantasy anymore. It was taking shape.
On day ten of their *break*, Leo called.
“Mum! Hows our little trooper?”
“Sleeping,” I said curtly.
“Listen” He hesitated. I braced myself. “Were *loving* it here. The hotel offered a discount if we stay another week. Mum, could you?”
I already knew.
“Were a bit short, though. Katie rememberedDads sapphire earrings. You never wear them. Could you pawn them? Well buy them back, *promise*!”
The earrings. My memories. My family. My life. Just a *thing* to fund their *living their best life*.
Something in me froze solid. Not shatteredjust turned to ice.
“Fine,” I said evenly. “How much?”
“Fifty grand should cover it. Just photograph the receipt so we know what to repay!”
“Of course, Leo. Enjoy your holiday.”
I hung up. Peeked into Milos room. He was asleep, lips smacking adorably. My sweet, unwanted boy.
The ice in my chest cracked. I couldnt abandon him. But I couldnt keep living like this.
I texted Leo: *I wont pawn the earrings. Your holiday ends in four days. If youre not back by Sunday, Im contacting social services on Monday. No discussion.*
His reply was instant: *Are you THREATENING us?!*
I didnt answer. I opened the airline website and booked a ticket. Malaga. One-way. Departing Tuesday.
They stormed in on Sunday evening. Sunburned, furious.
“*Happy* now?” Katie spat. “You ruined our *one* proper holiday!”
Leo marched past to Milo, who flung himself into his arms.
I walked out, holding my passport and ticket. A strange calm settled over me.
“Im glad youre back for your son,” I said softly. “Now listen. Both of you.”
They fell silent, startled by my tone.
“Five *years*, Leo. Five years Ive been your shadow.”
I picked Milo up when Katie was getting her nails done. Sat up with him through teething nights so they could sleep. Cancelled plans, missed gatheringsall because *Mum, we need you*.
Id spent more time with their son than they had. I was their *free service*.
I turned to Katie.
“You never once asked how I was. But you *always* remembered your orchid. You thought this would never end. That Id never leave.”
I placed the passport on the table.
“You were wrong. I love Milo. Thats why I waited. But my part in your lives is over. *I* want to see the sea too.”
Leo gaped at the ticket. “*Malaga*? Mumhow long?”
“I havent decided.” I shrugged, lifting my pre-packed suitcase. “Im living for *me* now. And you two? Youre parents. Fully. No help, no shortcuts, no sacrifices from anyone else. *Learn*.”
I kissed Milos forehead.
“Granny will be back soon,” I lied, forcing a smile.
Then I walked out. Left them in my tiny flat with twelve kilos of cat food, a finicky orchid, and the full weight of their own lives.
For the first time in years, I didnt feel empty. I felt something newthe whisper of freedom.
