Grandma Ana sat on a bench in front of her old house — the same one where she had spent her entire life. But now, it belonged to someone else, and she lived there only thanks to their kindness.
Ana couldn’t understand how she’d ended up in such a situation. She believed she had lived an honest life, never wishing harm on anyone, having raised her only son with love and care.
But her son hadn’t turned out the way she had raised him… Ana reflected on her life as bitter tears rolled down her cheeks. Her memories began with her wedding to her beloved Iván. A year later, their son Pablo was born. Later came twins — a boy and a girl — but they were too fragile and died within a week. Soon after, Iván died of appendicitis. The doctors didn’t identify the cause of his pain in time, and by the time the peritonitis set in, it was too late.
Ana grieved deeply for her husband, but tears couldn’t change anything. Life had to go on. She never remarried, though she had suitors. She feared Pablo would struggle to live with a stepfather, so she devoted herself entirely to raising him.
Pablo grew up and chose his own path, moving away to the city, where he built his career, got married, and carried on with his life. Grandma Ana stayed alone in the little house Iván had built for them when they married. And she lived there until old age.
Pablo sometimes visited his elderly mother — chopped firewood, fetched water, helped where he could. But each year it became harder for Ana to manage the house alone. She only had a goat and some chickens left, but even they required care.
One day, Pablo showed up with a stranger.
“Hi, Mom,” he greeted her.
“Hello, Pablito.”
“This is my friend Eugenio,” he continued. “He wants to see the house to buy it. It’s time for you to stop living here alone — you’ll come with me to the city.”
Grandma Ana suddenly sat down, shocked.
“Don’t worry, Mom. My wife doesn’t mind. We’ll take care of you. You’ll be comfortable and help with the grandkids. They’re already asking when Grandma Anita is coming.”
And so the decision was made — without her. What could Ana, an old woman, do? She couldn’t manage the house anymore, but at least she could care for her grandchildren.
The house was sold quickly and easily. Before leaving, Ana said goodbye to her home, walking through every corner filled with memories. In the garden behind the barn, silence greeted her — and it tightened around her heart. Not long ago, cows mooed, pigs grunted, the goat bleated, and chickens ran around. Now it was empty.
She scooped a handful of the earth she had worked for so many years. It was hard to say goodbye to the land of her birth and the village where she had lived her whole life. The neighbors wept when saying goodbye to Ana, promising to pray for her well-being.
She cast one last look at the house and got into her son’s car. What could she do? This was the bitter face of old age…
At first, living with her son was pleasant. No chores, no stove, no livestock — everything in the apartment was modern and convenient. Ana played with her grandchildren, watched TV.
Soon, her son used the money from the house sale to buy a car. Ana tried to object, saying the money shouldn’t be spent so quickly, but her son cut her off, saying she had no reason to worry about money — she lived in a warm apartment with everything she needed, and that should be enough.
Ana never brought up the subject again, though her son’s harsh words left a deep wound. And from the moment he bought the car, his and his wife’s attitude changed. Even the grandchildren became less affectionate and respectful.
They stopped paying attention to Ana. They didn’t care if she had eaten or slept, or if she needed anything. Over time, it got worse. They no longer called her for meals. They barely spoke to her — and when they did, it was harsh, even yelling at her for being in the wrong place or saying the wrong thing.
Ana was devastated. If she had known she would become unwanted so quickly, she never would have agreed to sell the house. She would’ve preferred to die of cold and hunger in her home than to live like this — unwanted in the home of her only child.
She cried every day for her little cottage. If she could return, she would — without hesitation. But the house had been sold, and strangers now lived there.
One day, she couldn’t bear it anymore and said to her son:
“I never thought, Pablito, that my old age would be so bitter, living in your home. It seems the money meant more to you than your own mother. I’m leaving — from here, and from all of you…”
Her son lowered his gaze and said nothing. Only when Ana, carrying her humble belongings, stepped across the apartment threshold did he mutter behind her:
“When you get tired of wandering the world, Mother, you can come back.”
Ana closed the door without a word. On the staircase landing, she allowed herself to cry. It hurt so deeply that her son hadn’t tried to stop her, to hug her, to comfort her. That the only words he found were cold and dismissive.
It took Ana more than a day to return to her village. She slept at the station, hitchhiked. Her eyes stayed wet with tears the whole way. She only calmed down when she saw her beloved house. The new owners had repaired and painted it — it looked just like it had when she and Iván first moved in.
Though the house was no longer hers, Ana didn’t think of that. She snuck into the attic of the pig barn and decided to live there. What mattered most was being within those familiar walls.
Her only fear was that the new owners would discover her and throw her out — like her own son had. Then she’d truly have nowhere to go. Unless the earth opened beneath her feet and swallowed her.
It didn’t take long before she was found. The very next morning, the owner came to feed the pigs. He poured the feed, looked up, and said:
“Come down, Grandma Ana, we need to talk.”
Ana hadn’t expected to be discovered so soon and didn’t know what to do. But she had to face them — come what may.
What she heard from the new owner, she never could have imagined:
“Grandma Anita,” said Eugenio kindly — the same man her son had once introduced to her — “my wife and I know everything about you. Your son called and said you might show up here. We also know you didn’t adjust well with your family.
After thinking it over, we’d like to offer you a home with us — since you couldn’t find your place in your son’s house. Living in a pig shed is not right. And honestly, this is your house. You and your husband built it, cared for it, preserved it for years. Surely, there’s a place here for its true owner.
Now come, wash up, and we’ll feed you. My wife makes a wonderful broth!”
Grandma Ana never expected such kindness. She began to cry again — this time from gratitude. It turned out that complete strangers had shown more compassion and empathy than her own son.
As she crossed the threshold of the house, Ana could barely stand. Everything smelled like her life. She understood that because of her own son, she had become a stranger in the house that was once hers.
Her heart wept, while her lips whispered a prayer, asking God to forgive Pablo…