Margaret was a widow who had built her life around one purpose—her only son, Jason. Since losing her husband when Jason was just four years old, she had carried the weight of two parents on her shoulders. She never imagined there would come a day when he would look at her with eyes that carried something colder than disappointment.
At sixty-six, she lived in a snug little apartment above a small coffee shop on a side street in Brookdale. The scent of roasted beans and fresh muffins drifted through her open kitchen window every morning. She had no savings to speak of, no luxury furniture, but love for her son filled every inch of her home.
Her days were a patchwork of hard work. Before dawn, she was on her hands and knees in office lobbies downtown, scrubbing floors until they gleamed under the fluorescent lights. By midafternoon, she was shelving books and helping children at the…..Read Full Story Here………….
