My daughter convinced me to go on vacation to the seaside: “All inclusive, Mom, you won’t have to do a thing.” I paid for the tickets myself. Upon arrival, I discovered I’d be staying with my grandchildren, while she and my son-in-law would be in a different building.

 

I remembered that night, the cold tea on the table and the tiredness that never seemed to disappear.

I said it in a fit of blind anger, in the midst of grief, when I had no strength to take care of myself.

 

I didn’t want to hurt my daughter. I just felt like I had the right to spend some time alone after James died.

 

I didn’t know that Anna had been carrying these words inside her for four years.

 

“Could you ask me again,” I said. “Maybe I would agree. I love my grandchildren and would never refuse to help when it was truly necessary.”

 

“But you lied to me. You promised me rest, and then you decided how you would spend each day.”

 

My daughter lowered her head.

 

-I know.

 

“No, you don’t. All this time, you haven’t even asked me what I wanted. You just assumed that since I’m his grandmother, I must be available at all hours. And now I don’t even know who I am: his mother or the nanny I hired through an ad?”