A month later, Hugh came to visit.

He brought groceries.

He helped me fix a loose cabinet door.

Then he sat down at my kitchen table.

“Mom, I need to tell you something.”

I looked at him.

“Go ahead.”

He took a deep breath.

“When Marlee first suggested the garage apartment, I thought it was a good idea. I figured you’d be close to the kids, and we’d save money.”

I nodded.

“But I didn’t think about what it would mean for you.”

He looked down.

“I saw your Social Security as income. I saw your time as something we could use. I didn’t think about how much you’d already given.”

I felt tears rise.

“Hugh…”

He shook his head.

“Let me finish.”

He looked at me.

“I think I got used to you always saying yes.”

I sat very still.

That was the truth.

I had always said yes.

Yes to babysitting.

Yes to helping with bills.

Yes to driving the children.

Yes to every request that came with the words, You’re their grandmother.

And somewhere along the way, my yes had become an expectation.

Hugh continued.

“I don’t want to be that kind of son.”

I reached across the table and held his hand.

“Then don’t be.”

He nodded.

“I won’t.”

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