My daughter-in-law laughed as she gave me a $2 scratch-off for my 73rd birthday. Ten months later, my own son shoved a senior living brochure in front of me and said, “We already picked your room.” They thought I was too old to fight back. They had no idea what I had been hiding.
Colin kept returning to the same question.
“If she won five million dollars, why does she care about rent?”
“Because I’m not your bank,” I said.
It hurt to say.
For years I had been the person who paid unexpected school expenses, bought groceries when Jessica forgot, and handed Colin money for household repairs without ever asking whether it would be returned.
No single favor had ruined our relationship.
It was the way every favor had quietly become an obligation.
