Without a backward glance

My first day at school I did not cry and cling to my mother’s skirts like other children. I ran away across the playground without a backward glance. Over the years, my mother would often retell this story. At the end she would repeat, in a doleful voice  ‘without a backward glance’,

Yet, a lifetime later, I’m about to move back home to live with her. No one made me, but I felt I had no choice. She’s 94 and can’t cope with the world alone anymore.

Would it be easier if she went into a care home? She’s not ready for that and besides, I can’t imagine a home where she would settle. She’s not the easiest of women. And I’m used to suiting myself. Let’s see how it goes.

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