But my children, Javier and Lucía, had other ideas.
The moment I retired, my house stopped being my sanctuary and became part of their routine. Javier would show up early in the morning, leaving his children before work “just for a while.” Lucía, meanwhile, would come later, stressed from her job, leaving her child so she could relax or meet friends.
What started as a favor turned into a daily obligation. They stopped asking if I could—they simply arrived with bags, diapers, and instructions about meals.
I love my grandchildren deeply, but my body no longer has the strength of a young woman. My back hurt, my plants began to die, and my home was always filled with toys and crumbs.
The real issue wasn’t the children.
It was my children’s sense of entitlement.
I had a doctor’s appointment one Tuesday to check my heart. I told them a week in advance.
They said they would try to arrange something.
