Dear Mum, your advice about generosity inspired meI gave away your tea set to Auntie.
Mum, you always called me selfish, the daughter replied with a smirk. So I gave your tea set to Aunt Margaret.
Since childhood, Emily had grown used to her toys never staying long in the house. Her mother, Margaret Whitmore, had a habit of gifting her daughters belongings to friends during visits.
Mum, why did you take my doll? Emily asked, her voice tight with worry.
Sweetheart, I know how much you love it, but the little girl across the street is poorly and sad right now, Margaret said, stroking her daughters hair. I thought our doll might cheer her up. We can always buy another, but chances to be kind are rare.
Emily stared at the doll, then at her mother, a tear slipping free. She didnt want to let it go.
But Margaret cared more about what others thought than her daughters tears.
Dont whineyou cant be this greedy, she snapped before sending Emily off to do her homework.
As she grew, Emilys books and clothes joined the list of gifts for others. At first, she resigned herself, believing her mother acted out of kindness and that she really was selfish.
But with time, she realised Margaret didnt act from goodnessbitterness grew inside her.
Im off to Aunt Maries. Ill be late, Margaret announced, lifting Emilys winter coat from the hook.
Planning to wear my coat? Emily laughed dryly.
Dont be sillyits too small for me. Youre much slimmer, her mother said with a strained smile.
Then why take it? Emilys voice sharpened.
I promised it to Marie for her daughter. Hers is torn, and they wont buy a new one since springs coming, Margaret deflected.
So I should wear a torn coat? Emily stared, stunned.
You wont need it soon anyway. If you do, take mine, Margaret replied, flustered.
Emilys anger coiled tight. *Why does she always give my things away? Why does she think this is normal?*
For the first time, she stepped forward and snatched the coat back.
Mum, why do you always give my things to others? This isnt normal! Emily gritted out.
Youre selfish. Sharing is good, Margaret scolded, brow furrowed.
Then share *your* things! Why always mine? Emily shot back.
Margaret stared, baffled, as if she didnt understand. Then she left wordlessly, offended.
Emily hung the coat up, prouduntil the next day, when Margaret took it without asking.
When Emily realised, she cried in frustration. That day, she knew shed only keep her belongings by leaving home.
Margaret returned, noting her daughters hurt but smothering her guilt with pride.
Emily doubled her efforts, securing top marks and a university placement. Moving into halls, she felt unexpected relief. Even sharing a room with three others felt safer than home.
Years passedshe graduated, found steady work, and rented a flat, building her own life. Despite old wounds, she still called her mother and visited sometimes.
During one visit, Margaret, out of habit, picked up Emilys new jeans.
Ill give these to Matildathey should fit her, she said casually.
Again, Mum? I bought these myself. Im not giving them up, Emily snapped.
Margaret blinked, taken aback.
Why so stingy? You were never generous as a child, she huffed.
Easy to give when its not yours. Try donating your own things, Emily shot back.
Margaret scowled but left without another word.
That day, Emily plotted revenge.
Her late fathers sisters birthday loomedshe knew shed be invited. Aunt Margaret adored her, unlike her mother, whom she scorned.
The night before, Emily visited and quietly took Margarets antique china set. Though old, it still gleamedperfect for a gift.
Her aunt was thrilled, but when Margaret noticed its absence, she erupted.
Wheres my china set? It was *impeccable*! she demanded.
You always preached generosity, Mum, Emily smiled. So I gave it to Aunt Margaret. She loved it.
Dumbstruck, Margaret gaped.
You shouldve asked! she finally hissed.
Did you ever ask me? Emily countered.
Children dont teach adults! *I* provided for youI decide whats given! Margaret shrieked.
Dad bought that set, so its my inheritance to give, Emily fired back.
Furious, Margaret threw her out and cut contact for over a year, ignoring callsthe wound ran deep.
But as New Years neared, she reconsidered and reached out first.
