As I stepped out of the car, the familiar sights of my childhood home welcomed me. The house, though weathered by time, still held its old charm – the creaky door and the overgrown garden that always smelled of lavender. It felt like stepping into a memory long tucked away.
The last time I’d been here was for a family gathering, years ago – more out of obligation than desire. But today was different. I had come with a clear purpose: to take my mother with me and never look back.
My relationship with her had always been complicated. Susan was a strong-willed woman, quick-tempered and sharp, often clashing with my more reserved nature. We argued frequently during my childhood, and over time, our conversations dwindled, filled with tension. I chose distance, building a life far from the place I once called “home.”
For years, we only spoke over the phone. Her voice gradually weakened, and though she often complained about the house and the struggles of living alone, I sensed there was something more. She only agreed to come live with me after the death of her old neighbor, Jeremy – a man she always claimed to despise.
Since I was a child, she’d warned me to stay away from him. But Jeremy had always been kind to me. I never understood the depth of her hatred for him, but I accepted it. Over time, I stopped asking questions.
Now, standing in the living room of my old house, I found myself asking the same one again. Why had she hated Jeremy so much? I needed to find out. I needed the truth before I left this house for good.
“Lisa, are you there?” my mother’s voice echoed from upstairs.
“Yes, Mom. I’m here,” I called back, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Good. I’ll be down soon. Clean up the first floor!” she snapped in her usual impatient tone.
I rolled my eyes, used to her bossy ways, and started tidying up the mess. Memories were everywhere – old photos, tiny trinkets with sentimental value.
A photo on the shelf caught my eye: an old family picture, me between my parents. I stared at it, and for the first time, I noticed how little I resembled my father. His eyes were brown, like my mother’s. But mine – green – didn’t match either of them.
I sighed softly and placed the photo back in its frame, then walked into my old bedroom. There, I found Mr. Peebles – the teddy bear Jeremy had given me years ago. My mother had forced me to throw it out, but I’d secretly hidden it.
I touched it gently, memories rushing back. But again, the question lingered: why had she been so angry that he gave me that toy? Why was she so determined to keep him away from me?
“How much longer, Mom?” I called again, tired of waiting.
“Maybe an hour!” she responded curtly.
I decided to go for a short walk around the neighborhood. As I stepped outside, my eyes fell on Jeremy’s house. Now abandoned, it looked cold and lonely. A strange pull inside urged me to go closer – maybe to finally uncover the secrets my mother had guarded so tightly.
The front door wasn’t locked. It creaked open, and I stepped in. The house was empty, just as I’d expected. But in his bedroom, on a small table, was a box. On top of it was written: “For Lisa,” in neat handwriting.
My heart raced. For me? How was that possible?
I opened the box and found letters, old photographs, and a well-worn journal. In one of the pictures, Jeremy was young, smiling next to my mother – close, happy. I couldn’t believe it. They had been that close?
I dove deeper into the box’s contents and opened the journal. The first entry was dated on my eleventh birthday:
“Today is my little Lisa’s birthday. Susan is still angry with me, and I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me. I left when she needed me the most. I ran when I found out she was pregnant – and I regret it every single day.”
I froze. My hands trembled as I kept reading. He had tried to be a part of my life, but my mother had shut him out, blaming him for the mistakes of the past.
At the bottom of the box was a letter, sealed and carefully written:
“I hope this letter reaches you, Lisa. I want you to know I always loved you, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. Now, everything I have is yours – my house, my savings – because you’re the only family I have.”
Tears streamed down my face as the weight of his words sank in. Jeremy had been my real father. The man my mother had kept me away from all my life… had always loved me.
I returned home, my mind racing. My mother was waiting on the porch with her bags ready.
“Where were you? I’ve been waiting,” she said, noticing my teary eyes.
I quickly wiped my tears and offered a faint smile. “Just got a bit of dust in my eyes, Mom. Let’s go.”
We loaded the car and hit the road. As we drove away, I felt, for the first time, a sense of release. I had uncovered the truth – about my father, about Jeremy, and about my mother.
I would take care of her – but I would never forget the secrets she kept. I’d learned that sometimes, the truth comes late… but it’s always better to know it than to live in the dark forever.