Growing up, Mom was the definition of sacrifice. She raised five kids on a modest income, wore the same coat for years, and never bought anything extravagant. So when I saw that dress—worn only to book club—I was stunned.
I brought it up gently over coffee. “Mom, that money could’ve helped Jason with school.”
She nodded slowly. “I know. I thought about that.”
“Then why?” I asked, frustrated.
“For seventy years, I’ve been more than just a mother,” she said, “but I never let myself be anything else. I’ve sacrificed without question. But now, I’m seventy. My kids are grown. I wanted one thing—just for me.”
Her words stopped me cold. I’d never considered how much she gave without asking for anything in return. I still wished she’d helped Jason. But I finally saw it clearly: she wasn’t being selfish.
She was simply remembering that she’s a person, too.
And after everything she gave us, maybe she had earned that small reminder.
