Since I was very young, I felt that love in our family was not shared equally. Mom always had a favorite: Maria, my sister.
If we both made the same mistake, I was always the one who got punished. And whenever we argued, I was the only one blamed.
Not only did I have to work hard to get excellent grades, but I also had to help my sister with her constant “threes” (average grades), write her reports, and solve her exercises while she went out with her friends. Mom took all of this for granted.
When it was time for university entrance exams, I managed to get accepted on the main list thanks to my efforts. Maria did not pass: Mom paid her tuition fees without hesitation.
I lived in a small dorm room with two roommates, eating only pasta and buckwheat. My sister had a comfortably furnished apartment and received packages from Mom every week.
After our father died, Mom went to work in Italy. She gave her apartment to Maria.
A few years later, Mom married an Italian. I must admit he is a good person: polite, caring, calm. It was strange to see that in one week he gave me more warmth than Mom had my whole life.
Then came Maria’s divorce. She returned to Mom’s with her two children, and Mom started providing everything for them: housing, clothes, food, even seaside holidays. Everything for Maria and her children.
Last summer, Mom decided to organize a family reunion: she invited us all to Italy. It seemed like we were really getting closer: we cooked together, walked through the alleys of a small Italian village, we laughed. I wanted to believe things were changing.
But at the farewell dinner, reality hit me hard.
— My dear, here, I know how hard it is right now, — Mom said, handing an envelope to my sister.
Inside: €10,000, and €1,000 for each of her children. For me and my son: nothing.
I stayed silent, but my eyes betrayed my pain. Mom noticed and, as if prepared, smiled and said:
— You are doing very well; you don’t need my help!
Indeed, I don’t need money. And that’s not what matters. But at that moment, I didn’t need euros… I needed recognition, a bit of warmth, a simple phrase: “You are amazing, I’m proud of you.”
But Mom always chose my sister. And even on that last evening, she made her choice again, in front of everyone.
And you? Did you receive as much love as a child?
