We Went to Visit Mum.
We went to visit my mother. As we entered the building, we found a five-year-old boy crying his eyes out.
“Why are you crying?” I asked.
He sniffled, “I came to see my grandma. I went to play in the garden, and when I came back, she wouldnt open the door.”
I reassured him, “Dont worry, shes probably just popped to the shops. Shell be back soon.”
But the poor lad wouldnt stop sobbing.
“Whats your name?”
“Ja-a-cob”
“Which flat do you live in?”
“Nu-number ei-eight”
The residents of flat eighteen were new, and I hadnt met them yet. I rang the bell, but no one answered. I couldnt leave the boy on the stairs.
“Come on, Jacob, youll be my guest. Ill leave a note on your grandmas door.”
Back at ours, while my husband kept him company, I scribbled a note: “Jacob is in flat 28.” I went down and stuck it to the door.
By the time I returned, Jacob was already playing cars with my son. Everything was fine.
I wiped his face and asked, “Fancy some vegetable soup?”
“Yes, please.”
He polished off a bowl in no time.
“For your next course, theres meatballs. Would you like some?”
“Mm-hmm!”
He had quite the appetite, wolfing down two meatballs at once.
“Would you prefer jam or juice?”
“Tea.”
I was surprisedat his age, Id only have tea if jam wasnt an option.
We sat drinking tea with biscuit cake while Jacob and my husband debated important matters, like car brands and their top speeds.
Mum arrived home. I explained we had a little guest.
“Thats odd,” she said. “A woman about your age lives in flat eighteen.”
I didnt think it strangea woman in her forties could easily be a grandmother to a five-year-old.
Mum accepted my reasoning and joined in entertaining him. She brought out the toy box, which made the little gathering even livelier.
About an hour later, the doorbell rang.
A woman my age stood at the door.
“Good afternoon,” she said. “I just got home from work and found this note. There must be some mix-up with the flats?”
It struck me as odd that shed been at work and the name Jacob meant nothing to her.
“You havent lost a grandson, have you?” I asked.
“I dont have any grandchildren,” she replied.
Something wasnt right.
Back in the lounge, everyone was busyMum was stacking blocks into a toy lorry, my husband was tying a string to a toy, while Jacob, the foreman, barked orders.
“Jacob,” I called, sitting beside him, “where exactly did you come from to visit your grandma?”
“From Manchester.”
“Do you know your home address?”
He recited the street, number, and flat.
“And your grandmas address?”
He gave the street name, and suddenly it all made sense.
In his games, hed wandered from one courtyard to another. When the other children left, he thought he should go home too. The buildings looked identical. Instead of his grandmas, hed ended up at ours.
He knocked, but no one answeredso he panicked and started crying.
I gave him a toy car, scooped him up, and we went to find his grandma, who mustve been frantic.
Just in the next courtyard, we heard shouting:
“Jacob! Jacob!”
We rushed toward the voice and saw a woman my age, clearly distraught.
“Is this your grandson?”
“Yes!”
Relieved, she hugged us.
We explained what happened, and everyone laughedthough her laughter was a bit shaky, as shed been terrified.
For Jacob, it was all great funhe had a new car.
As she thanked us profusely, we left before she dissolved into tears.
We were walking away when we heard:
“Jacob, come for lunch, you must be starving!”
“I already ate,” he called back, rolling his car along the ground.
“Hes eaten,” I confirmed, turning around. “Starter, main, and tea.”
“What a surprise!” she said. “He never has an appetitewe can barely get him to finish his soup.”
I raised an eyebrow, remembering how much hed eaten at ours. He waved his new car and shouted,
“See you tomorrow! Ill be back!”
Sometimes, the simplest moments remind us that kindnessand a biscuitcan turn a stranger into a friend.
