I never expected to find my childhood sweater in a laundromat, twenty years after my mother’s disappearance. But as soon as I saw its embroidery, I knew what Grandma had told me was a lie. And I needed answers.
I’ve never been one for nostalgia. My life was too busy for that. Between caring for my three-year-old son, Liam, and taking care of my grandmother, I barely had time to breathe.
“Ellie, did you take your vitamins today?” Grandma asked, peering over her glasses.
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“Yes, Grandma,” I replied, even though I wasn’t.
“Single mothers have to stay strong,” she reminded me, as if I hadn’t already figured it out.
She raised me after my mother abandoned me. And even though I had a child of my own, she still treated me like I was the one who needed to be raised.
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“Bring me my tea, my dear,” she called from her armchair.
“Grandma, you can go get it yourself.”
A dramatic sigh.
“Is this how you talk to the woman who raised you?”
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I loved him, I really did. But it was exhausting. That day, I just wanted a break. A simple moment of calm while I did the laundry.
Within half an hour, I’d thrown my clothes into the laundromat’s washing machine, pressed the start button, and gotten a cup of coffee from the vending machine. Routine.
While I waited, I approached the basket of lost clothes. That’s when I saw it. A small blue sweater. The fabric was worn and stretched from years of use.
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Something caught my eye. I picked it up and turned the collar inside out.
There, stitched with delicate, almost faded thread, was my name.
The laundry around me blurred, my heart pounding.
It’s impossible. I traced the tiny embroidered letters with my thumb. The memories came flooding back.
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I was five years old, lying on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. My mother was sitting by the window, carefully sewing in the fabric.
“My little star, I will always be there…”
But she wasn’t anymore.
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My father was dead. I was sick. My mother was having trouble finding work, and the only person who helped us was my grandmother.
And then one day…
I remember my mother holding me longer than usual. How she smoothed my hair and whispered:
“Be strong, my little star. You will get through this.”
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She was gone. Grandma said she left us. That she didn’t care. We moved to another state.
Finally, twenty years later, I found myself in a laundromat, holding the only thing she had ever done for me.
I swallowed hard and looked around.
Near the drying racks, a thin, tired-looking woman sat wrapped in an old coat. Two small children played at her feet. I approached her.
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“Excuse me… Is this your sweater?”
She looked at him, then looked at me, then looked back at the sweater.
“Yes. My daughter is wearing it.”
“Where did you find it?”
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She let out a slow sigh.
“In a charity center near the old church. There was a woman there…”
I gasped.
“What woman?”
“A kind soul,” she murmured. “She always helps those in need. She sews little embroideries on children’s clothes. Once, when I came in, she told me a story…”
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My fingers closed around the sweater.
“What story?”
“She said she had lost her daughter,” the woman continued. “That she had been looking for her for 20 years.”
I couldn’t breathe anymore. The woman looked at me more closely.
“She said that after twenty years of searching, she finally gave up and donated the sweater to the shelter.”
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I forced a breath, trying to steady myself.
“Do you remember his name?”
“She never told me.”
“Can I…” My voice broke. “Can I borrow this sweater? Just for one day.”
The woman studied me for a long moment, then nodded.
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“Of course.”
I had no idea what to do next. But I knew where I had to start. I had to talk to my grandmother.
***
When I got home, Grandma was exactly where I had left her that morning—sitting in her armchair, a cup of tea beside her, a newspaper open on her lap.
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I stood there for a moment, clutching the soft blue sweater in my hands, my heart pounding against my ribs. Then, without a word, I placed it on the table in front of her.
She didn’t even look up.
“Just a coincidence,” she mumbled, turning the page of her journal as if I’d just dropped a receipt instead of a piece of my childhood.
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“It’s no coincidence, Grandma. Why did you lie to me?”
She finally raised her head, her sharp gray eyes fixed on mine.
“Lied?” she sneered. “What nonsense are you talking about now?”
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I took another step.
“You told me Mom abandoned me. But I just met a woman who got this sweater from a charity, which my mom gave away. After searching for me. For 20 years.”
“She left us, Ellie. It’s the truth.”
“No,” I replied, my voice rising.
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“So what?” she sighed, picking up her teacup. “If she really wanted you, she would have found you.”
“You took me away from her. You hid me from her!”
Grandma’s hands were shaking slightly as she put down the teacup.
“I did what I had to do.”
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“I’m going to find her. Whether you like it or not.”
Grandma let out a dramatic sigh, shaking her head as if I were a naughty child.
“Do what you want,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “But if you go to find her, don’t come back.”
I stared at her, my whole body numb.
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For years, I had tried my best to be a good granddaughter. I cared for her, listened to her, and let her shape the way I saw the world. But finally, she showed her true colors.
I didn’t know where to start. But I knew one thing: it was my turn to fight for my mother.
***
The next morning, I grabbed my bag, sweater in hand, ready to leave. I looked for my car keys. They were nowhere to be found.
I checked my bag. My wallet wasn’t there either. Then I heard his voice behind me.
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“You don’t need to leave, Ellie.”
I turned around slowly. Grandma was standing in the doorway, completely calm.
“Where are my keys?”
She tilted her head.
“You have to think about your child. Do you really want to drag him into this nonsense?”
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“Give them back to me.”
“I won’t let you do this. Not to yourself. Not to your son.”
“What are you talking about?”
“If you leave, Lucas stays with me.”
I felt the ground give way beneath me.
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“What ?”
“You heard me. I won’t let you drag this boy into this madness. You’re chasing a woman who left you once. She’ll do it again. And when she does, what will you get? You’ll come back here with nothing, but I won’t let you walk out that door again.”
“Are you saying you’d throw me out?”
“You make your choice, Ellie. And I’ll make mine.”
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I let out a dry laugh, so none of this was funny.
“You can’t take my son away from me.”
“I don’t have to do it. You leave it behind.”
“You can’t even take a step without my help,” I snapped, my voice trembling. “You need me. You can barely make your own tea, let alone look after a three-year-old.”
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“I’m going to hire a nanny. A good one.”
Tears burned my eyes. I wanted to scream at her, tell her she was wrong.
But what if it wasn’t? What if I was chasing a ghost?
I looked at my son playing with his toy cars, blissfully unaware of the storm surrounding him. I couldn’t risk losing him.
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“Very well. I’ll stay.”
Grandma thought she had won. But she didn’t know the truth. My plan hadn’t changed.
***
Later that day, I took Lucas to the playground. At least, that’s what I told Grandma. Actually, everything was already planned.
I had the address of the charity center and had borrowed a friend’s car.
“We’re going on an adventure, my darling.”
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“Adventure ?”
“Yes, baby. We’re going to meet someone very special.”
I lifted him into my arms, his small hands wrapping around my neck, and walked to the car. As I drove, my pulse pounded in my ears.
Will she recognize me? Will she want to see me? Will she like Lucas?
Then I got rid of my doubts.
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***
The community center wasn’t far. I went inside. Lucas clung to me.
The smell of freshly baked bread and fabric softener filled the air. Somewhere in the distance, children were laughing.
A woman at the reception desk looked up and smiled.
“I can help you ?”
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“I… I’m looking for someone. A woman named Anna.”
His face softened. “Anna is out back, in the garden.”
I nodded, forcing my feet to move. The garden was peaceful, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. At first, I didn’t see her. Then I saw her.
She sat at a wooden table, sewing a tiny pink dress. Her hair was tied back in a loose bun. Her posture was familiar, her hands working the needle with quiet concentration.
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I stopped. It was her. My mother. I clutched the little sweater in my hand. And then, as if she sensed me, she looked up. Everything stopped. Her fingers froze.
“Ellie…?”
Suddenly, I no longer needed words. I took a step forward. Then another. And then, there she was. Mom’s arms were around me, tight and trembling.
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I buried my face in her shoulder, breathing in the scent of fabric softener, warmth, and something familiar. She was sobbing. Mom pulled away slightly, her hands shaking as she cupped my face.
“My baby… my little star… I thought I had lost you forever…”
Lucas squirmed between us. Mom’s eyes lowered and she jumped.
“Oh… oh my God. Who is it?”
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I wiped away my tears. “It’s Lucas. My son.”
She reached out a trembling, hesitant hand.
“Can I…?”
Lucas looked at her curiously, then looked at me. I nodded, gently placing him on the floor. He took a hesitant step forward. My mother knelt down, placing a hand over his heart as she examined him.
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“You look like your mother when she was a little girl…”
Lucas tilted his head.
“Are you my grandmother?”
“Yes, darling. Yes, it’s me.”
Lucas smiled, then did what he always did when he felt safe—he touched her cheek with his small hand.
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My mother looked up at me.
“I never thought I would get another chance.”
“Why, Mom? Why did you leave?”
“Your grandmother… she gave me a choice. She told me I had to leave and get my life back on track. She promised I could bring you home when I got back.”
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“But when you came back…”
Her lips were trembling.
“You were gone. The house had been sold. There was no trace of you. I looked everywhere, but I had no money or resources. I had lost everything.”
“She lied to both of us.”
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Tears blurred my vision. So many years. So much pain.
“We mustn’t let her win anymore. Do you want to come home with us?”
“With her?”
“She needs to let go of the past, Mom. She needs to stop blaming you for Dad’s death.”
My mother let out a bitter laugh, looking away.
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“She needed someone to blame. And I was the easiest target.”
“Maybe she’s not ready to hear the truth. But she needs it. And you need to stop punishing yourself for something that wasn’t your fault.”
My mother wiped her face, then exhaled deeply. Then she looked at Lucas and me.
“Let’s go home.”
For the first time in my life, I wasn’t chasing a ghost. My mother was there. She was real. And I wasn’t going to let her go.
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If you liked this story, read this one: My wife left me with our newborn baby, without warning, just with a little note. I raised our baby alone. A year later, she came back, as if nothing had happened. Read the full story here .
This story is inspired by the daily lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to real names or places is purely coincidental. All images are used for illustrative purposes only.
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