I had no clue how my decision to stop and buy a knitted bunny from the elderly woman on the corner would throw off my mother-in-law Eloise’s schedule. That one small deed started a series of circumstances that revealed truths Eloise had worked so hard to keep hidden. That was the point at which things started to shift. Since my husband’s death, every day has been difficult. I was trying to raise my five-year-old daughter, Maisie, alone while juggling a demanding profession. I felt as though I was failing all the time.

I had no one to turn to because my parents had passed away a long time ago. My MIL Eloise was the sole remaining family member, having moved in to “assist.” However, her assistance seemed more akin to a curse. Are you actually serving Maisie this for breakfast? The quiet of the morning was sliced through by the edge of Eloise’s voice. She had her eyes fixed on the cereal bowl in front of Maisie. I mumbled, disregarding Eloise’s gaze, “It is quick, and that is what we have.” “You are not fast enough, Eloise yelled. Her words stabbed through me like cold daggers.

She never volunteered to help, never offered to prepare Maisie’s breakfast. All of it was criticism, nothing more. Restraining myself from screaming my retaliation, I seized Maisie’s rucksack. The identical corner that we always pass was passed by us. There was an old woman sitting with a small table full with knitted mittens, scarves, and small animals.

Edna was her name. We had a little talk every morning, but today. Maisie tugged at my hand as she stared at a knitted bunny that was arranged amid the objects. I wavered. I was not sure if I had the emotional stamina to do anything more that day because we were running late. But I stopped when I saw Maisie’s expression toward the bunny. Morning, sweetheart,” she said. “Do not you think the rabbit is cute?” Maisie gave a nod. What is the price of the bunny? I enquired. “For her?” Edna turned to face me, then back to Maisie. She lifted the bunny and gave it to Maisie, saying, “It is a present,” with a gentle grin. Shouting “thank you,” Maisie hugged her rabbit. Unsure of what to say, I turned to gaze at Edna. I could feel the tension on my face.

“Hard morning?” she inquired politely. I nodded, not believing I could talk. “You could say that.” With her hands occupied with her knitting ropes, Edna nodded. I paused for a little moment. That woman was just the right amount of warmth, with her serene demeanor and kind gaze. “Would you mind staying with us?” Before I could stop myself, I blurted out. “You need a somewhere to stay, and I need help with Maisie.” It makes sense, really. Edna opened her eyes and stopped mid-stitch on her knitting needles.