I’m a 40-year-old single mom. Life hasn’t been easy. Between juggling two jobs just to keep the lights on and raising my daughter on my own, I often feel like I’m running on fumes. Some days, I barely even have time to breathe, let alone think about anything beyond the next meal, the next bill, the next bedtime story.
But behind all the chaos and exhaustion, there’s a constant ache — the guilt of not being there for my own mom. She lives only a short drive away, yet weeks, sometimes months, pass before I manage to visit. Every time I call, I can hear the hope in her voice, the pause before she asks, “When will you come by?” And every time, I scramble for an excuse. Next weekend, Mom. Soon, I promise.
The truth? By the time I clock out of one job and head to the next, I’m drained. My daughter needs me too, and I tell myself I’m doing the best I can — but still, the guilt doesn’t fade. It sits heavy in my chest, whispering that I’m failing her the way life once failed me.
I remember when I was little, my mom worked just as hard, but she always made time. No matter how tired she was, she sat with me at dinner, asked about my day, tucked me in at night. And now? I can’t seem to give that same devotion back to her.
One Sunday, after skipping yet another planned visit, my phone buzzed. It was my mom. But instead of her usual gentle voice, I heard a shaky breath. She had fallen. Nothing too serious, but serious enough that she needed help. My heart dropped. In that moment, I realized how fragile time really is.
I rushed over, helped her, and stayed the night. Sitting at her kitchen table, watching her sip tea with trembling hands, it hit me — all the excuses, all the “soon, Mom,” had stolen precious moments we would never get back.
Now, I try to carve out space, even if it’s small. An hour after work. A surprise lunch. A Sunday walk. It’s not perfect, and I’m still tired, but every smile from her reminds me why it’s worth it.
Because one day, there won’t be any more chances. And the guilt? I don’t want it to be the only thing I have left of her.
