When the first quarantine began, the children were very upset – after all, the work is suspended, but the grandchildren were happy. My daughter decided that they had no reason to stay in the city, because they were frightened on TV that they could not even walk normally in the street, and we have a remote house in the village, our grounds, forest belt, fields, and the river. In general, fresh air, not like in the city. The grandchildren were able to ride bikes, play ball around the site, eat fresh vegetables and my canned food, which until then my son-in-law could not come and take to town.
The children’s income was minimal, plus my pension. But we had a great spring and summer. My daughter rested, and my son-in-law finally leveled and padded a bent fence, cleaned the well. I had fun digging in the garden beds, and my grandchildren got all the freshest and tastiest things right from the garden.
Besides, for once I wasn’t so sad and lonely. Due to their busy schedule, the kids didn’t usually come over very often, only calling periodically by phone, so to be honest, I was glad to have such a sudden and hard quarantine. I had company every night, I had someone to try and cook for, and the best reward for that were the happy faces of my children and grandchildren.
But all good things come to an end. When the quarantine was loosened, the in-laws went back to town, the kids went back to work, and the grandkids went back to distance learning. At the beginning of autumn I was still pretty good, since there was plenty of work left to do, like cleaning dry leaves and the vegetable garden, and I could also go out to the woods to pick mushrooms. And then frosts came. Winter was very cold. Usually, my son-in-law would drop by on weekends to chop some wood and bring it inside the house so it wouldn’t get soaked outside in the snow, but this year they were busy and kept referring to the quarantine restrictions. That’s when I approached my daughter with my request.
While talking to her on the phone, in between I asked her if I could move in with them for the winter. There were two months left, and in March, as soon as it got a little warmer, I would return to the village. So my daughter and son-in-law started dissuading me, complaining that they had a very small apartment, their children were also studying, and they had nowhere to take me and no time to take care of me.
I didn’t expect that from them. I took them in, cooked for them with my sick hands, and they were sorry to spare the couch in the living room for me. I would help my daughter around the house and they wouldn’t have to worry about food since I would cook. It’s frustrating to realize that the grown children don’t need me at all anymore, and only use me when it’s convenient for them.
