Every Thanksgiving, Jennifer was forced to face the question she hated to answer: Why don’t you speak to your mother? She hoped her family would simply accept her choice, but once again, this year, the question came up. However, this time, Jennifer wouldn’t be able to avoid the conversation.
Jennifer gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white as she focused on the road.
Her Bluetooth earpiece rested in her ear, and her dad’s familiar voice echoed through it, calm and steady.
“Dad, I don’t understand why we have to go through this every single year,” she said, her frustration simmering just below the surface.
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“Because she’s your mother, Jen. You can’t just ignore her,” her father replied gently, but firmly.
“I’m not ignoring her!” Jennifer protested, her tone defensive.
This conversation felt like a broken record.
Her dad’s voice softened. “You don’t call her, don’t write to her, and don’t even want to stay for the holiday!”
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“No, I don’t!” Jennifer snapped back, a hint of hurt mixed with anger in her voice.
“Dad, am I just supposed to forget everything that’s happened? And you know she’ll never admit she was wrong…”
“Talk to her about it first. You don’t know what she’s thinking. Yes, she has a difficult personality, but I forgave her,” he said, his tone pleading.
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Jennifer clenched her teeth, gripping the wheel even tighter.
“Well, you shouldn’t have…”
“All I’m asking is that you come tonight, and have dinner with us as a family. We don’t need to break up the family over this.”
“So, I’m the one breaking up the family? Me? Not Mom?” Jennifer’s voice was sharp, tinged with bitterness.
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“You know that’s not what I meant…” her father replied quietly, his voice filled with patience.
Jennifer took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.
“Fine… I’ll come and stay for dinner. But I’m not promising I’ll last till the end…”
“That’s good enough for me. I’ll be waiting for you. Goodbye, honey.”
“Goodbye, Dad,” Jennifer said, and then the line went silent.
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She hung up and sighed deeply, sinking back against her seat. It had been almost three years since she’d last spoken to her mother, Sarah.
The split between Sarah and her father had come suddenly and painfully, and Jennifer still remembered the cold words her mother had said:
“I’ve wanted this for a long time, but only felt brave enough to do it now that the kids are grown.”
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How could she act as though their family had been a burden? Growing up, Jennifer had never felt close to Sarah.
Her mother had always been wrapped up in her own world—studying, working, socializing.
She rarely seemed to have time for her family, least of all for Jennifer. Instead, Jennifer had been the one taking on responsibilities far beyond her years.
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As the older sister, she had practically raised Carly, her younger sister, while Sarah was off doing her own thing.
Jennifer cooked dinner, helped Carly with her homework, and ensured the house was in order.
But every Thanksgiving, Sarah would reach out, talking about how much she missed everyone, as though she hadn’t been the one to walk away.
This time, Jennifer was certain it would be no different. She dreaded the forced smiles, the empty exchanges.
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Jennifer parked in the familiar gravel driveway, taking a deep breath as she stared at the large house in front of her.
Nestled close to the woods and a bit isolated from the city, it was the home she had grown up in—a place full of memories, both happy and painful.
She watched through the windshield as her father, Thomas, stepped out of the front door, his face lighting up the moment he saw her.
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He raised a hand in a warm wave, and next to him was her younger sister, Carly, bouncing on her toes with excitement.
She glanced toward the window and saw her mother, Sarah, standing just behind the glass, watching from the shadows.
“Jen! You finally made it!” Thomas called out, his voice filled with warmth.
“Hi, Dad. Hi, Carly,” Jennifer replied, doing her best to sound cheerful as she climbed out of the car. She forced a smile, hoping it looked genuine enough.
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As she walked over, her father pulled her into a big hug, squeezing her shoulders tightly. It felt comforting, even if she didn’t completely feel at ease.
Then she turned to a grinning Carly and reached over to give her hair a playful ruffle like she had done so many times when they were younger.
“Jen, I’m 23 years old! Enough!” Carly protested, laughing as she brushed Jennifer’s hand away.
Jennifer chuckled, shrugging.
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“You’ll always be my little sister,” she teased.
Carly rolled her eyes, then gestured toward the house.
“Let’s go inside quickly, warm up, and start prepping the turkey. It’s freezing out here!”
Jennifer nodded, her smile fading slightly as she approached the front door. There, Sarah was waiting, her expression unreadable.
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The two exchanged a brief look—Jennifer’s forced warmth meeting her mother’s cool gaze.
“Hi, Mom,” Jennifer said, trying to keep her voice steady.
“Hello, Jennifer,” Sarah replied, her tone polite but distant.
Without another word, they walked into the house, the silence between them heavy.
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The evening had grown dark, and the sound of rain pounded against the windows, filling the house with a steady, unrelenting noise.
Outside, the storm was fierce, with gusts of wind whipping through the trees and flashes of lightning illuminating the night sky.
The news report on TV confirmed what they could already hear—this was a serious storm, and everyone was being advised to stay inside until it passed.
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In the kitchen, Jennifer and Sarah worked side by side, though they may as well have been miles apart. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other since dinner preparations began.
Each kept to their side of the kitchen, moving quickly and efficiently, but the tension in the room was impossible to ignore.
Jennifer tried to focus on the task at hand, setting the plates and arranging the silverware just as she’d always done.
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But as she stepped back to check her work, she noticed Sarah coming over to adjust the cutlery, nudging each piece as if Jennifer hadn’t placed them correctly.
Jennifer took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm, but the irritation was building.
She moved on, arranging the dishes and appetizers she had prepared, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sarah shaking her head, a slight frown on her face, as though Jennifer had done something wrong again.
It felt like a silent critique, a reminder that nothing Jennifer did was ever good enough.
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The feeling brought back memories from childhood, of similar silent judgments, and Jennifer could feel her patience slipping away.
Finally, she couldn’t hold back any longer.
“I’ve had enough!” she snapped, her voice rising. “Am I doing everything wrong?”
Sarah looked at her, unfazed.
“I’m just helping you do it right…”
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“Right? Right as in ‘the way you want it’?”
“Right is right,” Sarah replied, her tone calm but firm.
“Oh, and you always do everything right, don’t you?”
Sarah met her gaze, her voice dropping a bit colder. “At least I didn’t ignore my own mother…”
“Well, your mother wasn’t absent your whole life!”
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Thomas, sensing the argument spiraling out of control, stepped forward.
“Please, it’s Thanksgiving. Let’s not fight,” he said, his voice gentle but firm, hoping to calm the storm brewing in the kitchen.
But Jennifer and Sarah were too deep in their anger to listen.
“Coming here was a mistake. I’m better off going home,” Jennifer said, her voice trembling with frustration as she turned sharply toward the door.
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Thomas reached out, his hand resting gently on her shoulder.
“Wait! You’re not going anywhere. There’s a storm outside; it’s too dangerous to drive right now.”
Jennifer froze for a moment, glancing at the windows where rain lashed against the glass, almost as if the storm itself were a warning.
She knew he was right; the roads would be a mess. But the frustration within her was so strong that she shrugged his hand off and stormed up the stairs without another word.
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She entered her old bedroom and closed the door behind her, leaning against it as she tried to catch her breath. Then, unable to hold back her emotions, she turned and slammed the door, the sound echoing through the quiet house.
Jennifer took a seat at her desk, the same one where she’d spent countless hours helping Carly with homework.
Gently, Jennifer ran her hand over its surface, noticing how spotless it was. Not a hint of dust on any shelf or corner.
The room looked exactly as it had when she left—everything in perfect order.
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She knew her dad wasn’t one for keeping things this tidy, and a quiet realization crept over her.
It must have been her mom who kept the room this way, preserved like a time capsule.
Opening a drawer, Jennifer’s fingers brushed something soft. She pulled it out and found her old doll.
Smiling, she cradled the doll, memories from her childhood flooding back, memories of feeling safe and comforted, despite everything.
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A soft knock at the door broke her thoughts. The door opened, and Sarah stepped in, her eyes immediately noticing the doll in Jennifer’s hands.
“Listen, Jen… I’m sorry,” Sarah said quietly.
Jennifer looked up, her expression guarded. “Sorry for what? For being gone my whole childhood? For leaving Dad? Or for tonight?”
Sarah’s face softened. “For everything…”
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Jennifer shook her head. “That’s a lot to forgive in one day…”
“But it’s been more than one day,” Sarah replied gently, her gaze landing on the doll. “That’s Miss Monica, right?”
Jennifer nodded. “Yes… You remembered her name?”
“Of course. I gave her to you. I’ll never forget that day. You were so happy when you saw her.”
“She was my first doll,” Jennifer whispered, her voice softening.
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Sarah stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on Jennifer’s.
“I know I made a lot of mistakes. I’m sorry I wasn’t there enough and had to grow up too soon, taking care of Carly. I know my relationship with your father wasn’t perfect. But none of that changes how I feel about you.”
“And how’s that?” Jennifer asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I love you, Jen. I always have. You’re my daughter. I can’t change the past, but please… let me make it right now.”
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Tears gathered in Jennifer’s eyes, and she offered her mom a small, tentative smile. “Let’s try…”
Sarah squeezed her hand gently. “For now, how about we go eat everything we worked so hard to prepare?”
Jennifer chuckled softly, wiping her eyes. “Okay, Mom. It`s a start”
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Foster mother Helen had seen dozens of kids find new families and leave her house with happy faces. It brought a feeling of fulfillment to her heart. But one boy who came to her wasn’t finding his new path, and Helen realized she would need to find a way to help him. Read the full story here.
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