**Diary Entry A Mothers Heartache**
“Katie, youre back again,” Mum sighed, slipping off her coat as she watched me rummage through the fridge. “Why did you even move out if you keep coming back? Maybe it wasnt the right time…”
I spun around, clutching a packet of ham to my chest. “Mum! You scared me half to deathcreeping in like a ghost!” I huffed, then flashed my most disarming smile. “I just popped by to see how you were doing.”
Mum set her shopping bags down on the kitchen table and gave me that lookthe one that saw right through me. At twenty-four, I might have looked grown-up, but she still caught that flicker of childish helplessness in my eyes.
“Visiting me, or raiding the fridge?” she asked gently.
I blushed, staring at the floor. After a moment of silence, the words tumbled out in a rush. “Okay, fine. My wages vanished suspiciously fast, and Ive got a week left till payday. Im skint, Mum. No food. Thats the long and short of it.”
She held back a sigh. Id been so desperate to prove my independence when I moved outtoo eager, too soon. But could she have stopped me? Young people always charge headfirst into freedom without thinking.
“Lets skip the I told you so,” I cut in, raising a hand before she could protest. “I just miscalculated, thats all. Next month will be differentyoull see! Ill be the one bringing you gifts and ordering your grocery deliveries. Honest!”
Mum shook her head. My stubborn optimism hadnt faded with age.
“Take what you need, love. Dont worry.”
I emptied the fridge methodicallyham, cheese, cream, vegall disappearing into my oversized tote. From the cupboards went packets of rice and pasta, then I lugged a bag of potatoes in from the pantry.
“Thatll last me the week!” I beamed, planting a loud kiss on her cheek. “Thanks, Mum! Youre the best!”
She walked me to the door, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze.
Silence settled over the flat. Leaning against the wall, Mum sighed, remembering herself at my agejuggling work, a husband, and a toddler. How had she managed it all? Now, even a trip to the shops left her exhausted.
“Where did my youth go?” she whispered to her reflection in the hallway mirror. Wrinkles framed her eyes, silver streaking her once-thick chestnut hair. Time was cruel. Her best years had slipped away in a blur of responsibilities. She had no regrets, but sometimes the weight of it all made her want to scream.
A week later, Mum rang me. Her mothers instinct wouldnt let her rest.
“Do you need money? Anything?” she asked the second I picked up.
I laughed breezily. “Mum, Ive been paid nowstop fussing. Im a big girl!”
“Big girl, my foot,” she muttered. “Who ran out of food last week? Katie, love, maybe you should move back home. Itd be easier.”
Silence. Then an irritated huff.
“Mum, Im grown! I want my own place. So what if Im still figuring things out? Why dont you believe in me?”
She faltered. She hadnt meant to upset mejust to help.
“Sorry, love. I worry, thats all. Youll always be my little girl.”
The conversation soured, leaving a bitter aftertaste. Mum sat clutching the phone long after Id hung up. Raising me had been hard, but letting me go was harder.
Three days later, Mum came home late from her friends to find me in the kitchen, devouring a sandwich.
“Back so soon?” I said through a mouthful. “Just raiding your fridge again. Paid the rent today and realised Ill be skint till payday. Same old story.”
I smiled, but something in my eyes had changedcolder, more calculating.
“I thought you were grown and independent?” Mum sighed, sinking into a chair.
I shrugged, tossing groceries into my bag. “I *am* grown. But youre my mum. Its your *job* to help me.” The way I said itlike an accusationmade her chest tighten. “Im giving you a chance to be a proper mother.”
Apples, veg, a tub of pasta salad, five yoghurtsall vanished into my bag. Mum watched in silence. Since when was love an *obligation*?
My visits became routine. New shoes, a phone upgrade, rent hikesalways an excuse to clean out her fridge.
Mum bit her tongue. How could she scold her own daughter? But each time, it wore her down more. I stopped pretending Id come to see *her*. No “How are you?” No interest in her life. Just take and go.
One evening, Mum came home soaked from the rain. Shrugging off her coat, she headed to the kitchen.
“Need to defrost the chicken,” she mumbled, yanking open the freezer. “Roast it with potatoes, maybe a salad…”
Her hand froze. The shelves were bare. Not a scrap of meat, not a frozen pea. She flung the fridge door wideonly a jar of mustard sat there, untouched (I hated the stuff).
Hands shaking, she dialled my number.
“Mum, what?” I snapped.
“Katie, did you take *all* the food?” Her voice trembled.
“Yeah!” I chirped. “Thought Id save myself the trip. No point traipsing over every other day!”
Mum squeezed her eyes shut, fighting tears. How could I be so thoughtless?
“Katie, Ive just got homeI was going to cook”
“Mum,” I cut in, exasperated. “Just pop to the shops! The walkll do you good. Doctors say you need the exercise. Anyway, gotta gobye!”
The line went dead. Mum slumped into a chair, staring at the phone. A hollow ache spread through her. Had I really reduced her to a free grocery service?
After that, the empty fridge became a biweekly occurrence. I didnt even bother with excuses anymore.
Then, one night, the smash of glass woke her. She bolted to the kitchen to find me on my knees, wiping up spilled mustard, shards everywhere.
“Even took the mustard? The one thing you *hate*?” she demanded.
I glared up. “Oh, dont start. Just help me clean this mess!”
“Katie, why didnt you wake me? What are you doing here in the middle of the night?”
I threw the cloth down, leaving yellow streaks on the tiles. Crossing my armsjust like Mum did when angryI shot back, “Ive got a key, remember? This is my home too! Do I need *permission* now? Am I not allowed here anymore?”
Mum shook her head. “Youre welcome anytime. But you dont come for *me*you come for the food. Katie, Im not made of money. I cant feed both of us, especially when you take *everything*.”
I slammed the fridge door. “You *begrudge* your own daughter food? You *said* I could take what I needed!”
“I thought itd be a one-off!” Mums voice cracked. “But you treat my home like a free supermarket! I never know if Ill have dinner or go to bed hungry. This isnt right, Katie!”
I backed toward the window, stepping over broken glass. “You regret helping me that first time, dont you? Just say it! And I thought you were my *mother*! Youre supposed to *support* me! Its your *duty*!”
“Katie, youre twenty-four!” Mum snapped. “I dont *owe* you meals! If you cant manage, move back home! Pay your share. At least you wont have rent.”
For a second, I just stood there. Then my face twisted with rage.
“I dont *want* to live with you! Understand? Me and Ethan are seriousweve moved in together! But I didnt realise hed eat so much!”
Mum went still. Id been living with a boyfriendand never told her. Instead, Id been stealing food to feed *him*.
“And thats *my* problem?” Her voice turned icy. “Hes *your* partner. *Your* family.”
“But you *have* to help me! Youre my *mum*!” I shrieked.
“Let Ethan raid *his* mothers fridge!” Mum sank onto a chair, drained. “Or get a second job. If two adults cant feed themselves, maybe *youre* the problem. Ive burned through my savingsfor what? To feed your greedy boyfriend?”
My face blotched red. “How *dare* you! Ethans wonderful! And youyoure a *horrible* mother! A good one would *help* her daughter, not throw *breadcrumbs* in her face!”
Mum cradled her head in her hands. The hurt was suffocating.
“Katie, please leave,” she whispered. “For six months, all Ive been to you is a walking fridge. I need time. You lied. You used me. Take whatevers left. Consider it a parting gift. Then go.”
I didnt look up as I stuffed my bag. Only the slam of the front door made her flinch. The kitchen clock ticked mockingly in the silence.
At the window, Mum stared out at the city lights. Somewhere out there, I was heading back to Ethanmy latest haul in tow.
“Tomorrow, Ill change the locks,” she murmured. “Time they learned responsibility. Let them live within their means.”
…She did. And for weeks, I didnt call. Didnt text. Too proud. But it was better than being treated like a free supermarket.
A month later, my name finally flashed on her phone.
