A Single Mother Had Nowhere to Leave Her Daughter While She Worked. Her Neighbor, an Elderly Widower, Offered to Take Care of Her “So I Don’t Eat Alone Anymore.”
I had been searching for a solution for three weeks. Three weeks of counting every penny, calculating impossible schedules, begging my boss to let me come in half an hour late. But the numbers didn’t add up. Either I paid for daycare, or I paid the rent. There was no way to do both.
That afternoon I returned from work with Emma holding my hand and the grocery bags cutting into my fingers. I had bought only the bare essentials: rice, eggs, a can of tuna. Emma chattered about a butterfly she had seen in the park with that wonder only five-year-olds have, when I ran into Don Alberto in the hallway.
“Good afternoon, Sofía,” he greeted, removing his ever-present felt hat. “Hello, little Emma.”
“Hi, Don Alberto!” my daughter shouted, letting go of my hand to run to him.
I forced a smile. Don Alberto was kind, always had been, but my mind was elsewhere—on the bills that didn’t add up, on the message I had received that morning from the daycare director: “If payment is not regularized by the end of this week, we cannot keep Emma enrolled.”
“Everything okay?” he asked, and there was something in his tone that made me look up.
His eyes were soft, concerned. He had that look people get when they’ve lived long and lost much.
“Yes, yes, everything’s fine,” I lied, clutching the bags. “Just tired.”
Emma began searching for her keys in my bag while I tried not to let the tears I’d held back all day fall.
“Sofía,” said Don Alberto, stepping closer. “Forgive me for interfering, but… I’ve noticed you rushing around stressed for days. And I see Emma less in the building.”
I froze.
“It’s… the daycare…” I started, my voice breaking.
I couldn’t continue. The bags fell to the floor. Emma picked up an apple that had rolled toward her. Don Alberto bent down to help me, and when our hands met picking up the carton of eggs, he looked me straight in the eyes.
“I have nowhere to leave her,” I finally confessed. “I can’t pay for daycare and rent. I have no family here. No one.”
Silence stretched down the hallway. Emma hummed a tune, oblivious.
“What if I took care of her?” Don Alberto said suddenly.
I looked at him, confused.
“How?”
“I mean, I could take care of Emma while you work.” He ran a hand through his gray hair, almost embarrassed. “Look, Sofía, I’ve lived alone since Marta passed away three years ago. This house is empty. I am empty. I eat alone every night, watching TV, talking to the walls.”
“Don Alberto, I can’t ask you to do that…”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering,” he smiled, a sad but genuine smile. “Emma is a wonderful child. It would be a pleasure to have her with me. We can do homework, cook together. And… then I wouldn’t eat alone anymore.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“I don’t know what to say…”
“Say yes,” he murmured. “Please. You’d be doing me a favor too.”
Emma tugged at my sleeve.
“Mom, can I go to Don Alberto’s? He has a cat!”
We both burst out laughing. I didn’t know he had a cat.
“Are you sure?” I whispered.
“Completely,” he said, eyes glistening. “Completely sure.”
The next day, when I left Emma at Don Alberto’s apartment before going to work, I saw him setting the table for two. He had bought my daughter’s favorite cereal, the one I couldn’t afford. He had tied colorful balloons to the chairs.
“To celebrate,” he said, shrugging. “To celebrate that we’re not alone anymore.”
Emma ran to the table, laughing. I walked out of that apartment with a lighter heart than I had had in months.
That evening, when I picked her up, Emma wouldn’t stop talking. How Don Alberto had taught her to bake cookies. That the cat was named Nube. That they had read three stories. That he had told her about when he and his wife used to dance in the living room.
“Mom,” she said as I tucked her in, “can Don Alberto be my grandpa?”
I was speechless. I kissed her forehead.
“I think he already is, my love. I think he already is.”
On the other side of the wall, I knew Don Alberto was having dinner. But this time, he wasn’t alone. He had set two plates on the table, and even though Emma wasn’t there, her laughter still filled that empty house.
And mine too
