I thought my mother had given up on love.
For eleven years, she lived alone.
After my father died, Mom became quieter.
She stopped dressing up.
She stopped going out.
She stopped doing the things that once made her happy.
Then Richard appeared.
He was fifty-seven.
She was seventy-two.
Some people questioned the age difference.
But I did not care.
My only concern was whether he treated her well.
And at first, he seemed wonderful.
He met Mom at a community gardening club.
He brought her flowers.
He fixed the loose railing on her porch.
He remembered small details about her.
Most importantly, he made her smile again.
I had not seen that smile in years.
Mom started wearing perfume.
She bought a beautiful red dress.
She laughed more.
Sometimes I would see her looking at her phone and smiling like a
teenager.
It was honestly beautiful.
Richard also treated my daughter Chloe well.
