And the following Friday, when she arrived at my house and discovered her key no longer worked, she finally understood that something had changed.
My name is Dorothy Hale. I’m sixty-three years old, a retired office administrator living in Barrie, Ontario.
I raised my only son, Owen, mostly on my own after his father left when he was nine.
For thirty-one years, I worked hard, paid my bills, saved what I could, and eventually paid off my mortgage.
I’ve never been wealthy.
But I’ve always believed in helping family.
Unfortunately, somewhere along the way, my family began confusing my kindness with an obligation.
The trouble began on a Thursday afternoon when Owen called.
“Mom, Christa’s parents are visiting this weekend. Could you make one of your famous hams?”
I smiled.
“Of course, sweetheart.”
“Christa says nobody makes ham like you.”
That compliment warmed my heart.
I wrote down the ingredients and began planning.
