We all called her Aayi, she was a mother to all. Her children were away in the USA. Daughter had married a South African, son a German. But Aayi never cribbed. 'They are happy, that is all I want', she said.
We worked for destitute women. Inspiring some, motivating others. Finding new opportunities, selling their produce.
And one day her life breath passed away. Her neighbor informed me. Her possessions were all in a bag. Her worth was though some lakhs. She had bequeathed all to me, ‘for a child who is more than my own’, her will had said.
Written for the prompt Dark secrets for