“Better not come for now”: how a daughter rejected her mother for becoming “unpresentable”

—Mom, better not come today, okay? —my daughter Lucía said in a cold, almost automatic tone as she slipped on her sneakers in the hallway—. Thanks for everything, of course, but right now… it’s not a good time. Get some rest, stay home.

I already had my bag in hand, buttoning my coat, ready—as I did every afternoon—to go care for my granddaughter Sofía while Lucía went to her yoga class. It was always the same: I’d arrive, play with the little one, then return to my tiny studio apartment in Carabanchel. But that day, something changed. Her words froze me. As if they nailed me to the floor.

What had I done wrong? Did I put Sofía to bed too late? Dress her in the wrong onesie? Feed her at the wrong time? Or maybe… was it the way I looked at her?

No. The reason was more superficial. And far more painful.

It all came from her in-laws, the Martínez-Gómez family. Wealthy, influential, with public positions, they had decided to visit their granddaughter daily. They unboxed expensive toys, took over the living room like it belonged to them—including the table they had gifted themselves. They even bought the apartment for the couple.

Their furniture, their tea—they brought a tin of gourmet herbal blend and made the space their own. And apparently, the granddaughter too. Me? I was no longer needed.

Me, a former Renfe employee with thirty years of service. A simple woman, with no degrees or jewels, gray curls, and clothes from the flea market.

—Look at yourself, Mom —Lucía whispered—. You’ve gained weight. The gray hair’s taking over. You look… unkempt. Those tacky sweaters. And you smell… like a commuter train car. You understand?

I said nothing. What could I possibly say?

When she left, I looked at myself in the mirror. There I was: tired eyes, wrinkles beside my mouth, a loose sweater, cheeks burning with shame. The disgust toward myself hit like a sudden downpour. I stepped outside to get some air, and then… a lump in my throat, burning eyes. Betraying tears rolled down.

I went back to my studio. Sat on the couch and opened my old phone, where I keep the photos. Lucía as a child. Lucía with a ribbon on her first day of school. Lucía at graduation, at her wedding. And Sofía, smiling in her bassinet.

That was my life. Everything I lived for. Everything I gave, until there wasn’t even a crumb left. If they said “don’t come,” maybe they were right. My time had passed. I played my part. Now… don’t get in the way. Don’t be a burden. Don’t embarrass them with my appearance. If they need me, they’ll call. Maybe they’ll call.

Weeks passed. And then, a phone call.

—Mom… —her voice trembling—. Could you come? The nanny quit. My in-laws… showed their true colors. And Alejandro went out partying with his friends. I’m alone.

I stayed silent. Then answered, calmly:

—I’m sorry, sweetheart. I can’t right now. I need… to take care of myself. To become “dignified,” like you said. When I manage that… maybe I’ll come back.

I hung up. And I smiled for the first time in months. A sad smile—but full of dignity.