I was sitting in the doctor’s waiting room when my phone rang. It was Angela, my only daughter. Her voice sounded strange, almost cold, when she said, “Mom, we’re going to Europe tomorrow. I already sold your beach house and your car.”

“No, Mom, this is your house and I’m here because of your generosity, but I’m not going to abuse that forever.” One night, while Angela was on her first cleaning shift, Aurora came to visit. She sat in the kitchen with me, drinking tea and looking at the family photos that adorned the walls. “Antonia, I have to ask you something.
You knew Angela was going to come back in this condition.” “What do you mean?” “Well, it’s just that when she left she seemed so self-assured, so arrogant.” She talked about the great life she was going to have in Europe, about how successful Eduardo was. And now she’s back completely broken, working as a cleaner, living with you again. Life takes many turns, Aurora.
Yes, but there’s something else. I’ve been watching Ángela these past few days, and she seems different, not just sad, but humble, as if she’s learned something important. Aurora has always been very perceptive. What do you think she learned? I think she learned the value of things she’d taken for granted, like having a mother who loves her unconditionally.
Perhaps, Antonia, can I tell you something? When Ángela left and treated you so badly, many of us thought you’d never forgive her, but here you are taking care of her again, giving her a home when she has nowhere else to go. She’s my daughter, Aurora. Yes, but not all mothers would do what you’re doing, especially after being treated the way you were.

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