**Dear Mum, your advice about generosity inspired meI gave away your tea set to Auntie.**
**”Mum, you always said I was selfish,” her daughter replied with a smile. “So, I gifted your tea set to Aunt Margaret.”**
Since childhood, Emily had grown used to her belongings never staying in the house for long. Her mother, Beatrice Whitmore, had a habit of giving away her daughters things whenever they visited friends.
**”Mum, why did you take my doll?” Emily asked, her voice uneasy.**
**”Emily, darling, I know how much you love that doll,” Beatrice replied, stroking her hair. “But the little girl across the street is poorly and very sad. I thought our doll might cheer her up. We can always buy another, but chances to do good dont come often.”**
Emily studied the doll, then her mother, and blinked back a tear. She didnt want to part with her favourite toy.
Unfortunately, Beatrice cared more about others opinions than her daughters feelings.
**”Dont whingebeing stingy isnt a good look,” she snapped before sending Emily off to do her homework.**
As she grew, Emilys books and clothes were added to the list of gifts for others. At first, she accepted it, believing her mother acted out of kindness and that she really was selfish.
But with time, she realised Beatrice wasnt generousjust controlling. Resentment grew.
**”Im visiting Aunt Mary; Ill be back late,” Beatrice said, unhooking Emilys winter coat.**
**”Youre taking my coat now?” Emily asked, raising an eyebrow.**
**”Dont be sillyits too small for me,” her mother said with an awkward smile. “Youre much slimmer.”**
**”Then why did you take it?”**
**”I promised it to Marys daughter. Hers is torn, and they dont want to buy a new one with spring coming.”**
**”And Im supposed to wear a torn coat?” Emily stared, stunned.**
**”You wont need one soon anyway,” Beatrice said quickly. “Or you can borrow mine.”**
Emily clenched her fists, frustration rising.
*Why does she always give my things away? Why does she think this is normal?*
For the first time, she stepped forward and took back her coat.
**”Mum, why do you always give my things to others? Its not right!”**
**”Youre being selfish, Emily. Sharing is important,” Beatrice scolded.**
**”Then share* your *things! Why always mine?”**
Beatrice looked baffled, as if the question made no sense. Without another word, she left, offended.
Emily hung her coat back up, proud of standing her ground. But the next day, it happened againthis time without a word. Beatrice snatched the coat and hurried out.
When Emily noticed, she cried in frustration. That day, she realised the only way to keep her things safe was to leave.
She worked harder, earning top marks and a university place. Moving into student halls, she felt unexpected reliefeven a shared room felt safer than home.
Years passed. Emily graduated, found a steady job, and got her own flat. Despite old wounds, she still called her mother and visited occasionally.
During one visit, Beatrice eyed a pair of Emilys new jeans.
**”Emily, Im giving these to Matildatheyll fit her,” she announced casually.**
**”No, Mum. I bought these. Theyre *mine*.”**
Beatrice frowned. **”Honestly, you were just as tight-fisted as a child.”**
**”Easy to be generous with someone elses things,” Emily shot back. “Try giving away yours.”**
Beatrice left in a huff.
That night, Emily plotted her revenge. Her late fathers sisters birthday was coming up, and Aunt Margaretwho disliked Beatricewould invite her.
The night before, Emily quietly took her mothers treasured porcelain tea set, still in perfect condition, and gifted it to Margaret.
When Beatrice noticed, she was livid.
**”Wheres my tea set?” she demanded.**
**”You always said sharing matters,” Emily said sweetly. “So I gave it to Aunt Margaret. She loved it.”**
Beatrice gaped. **”You shouldve asked!”**
**”Did you ever ask before taking *my* things?”**
**”Dont cheek me! I paid for all your thingsI decide what happens to them!”**
**”Dad bought that set, so really, I gave away *my* inheritance,” Emily retorted.**
Furious, Beatrice threw her out. They didnt speak for over a yearuntil one New Years Eve, when Beatrice finally reached out.
