11/24/2025
I'm 72, and I never thought I'd be raising a baby again. My daughter ran off with her lover six months ago, leaving her little girl behind — just two weeks old at the time. The baby's father wanted nothing to do with her. So now it's just me and Lily.
Yesterday, I took Lily to the grocery store. I don't have anyone to watch her, so I strapped her into the carrier and prayed she'd stay asleep long enough for me to finish shopping.
I picked up a few jars of baby food, a pack of diapers, and a small piece of turkey breast — my little way of keeping Thanksgiving alive, even if it's just for the two of us.
When I went to pay, the card reader beeped.
"Declined."
I tried again. Same result.
The man behind me groaned. "OH, FOR GOD’S SAKE. WHAT IS THIS, A CHARITY LINE?!"
I mumbled an apology and fumbled with my card again. The machine beeped — declined.
Lily began to cry, startled by the noise. I lifted her into my arms, rocking gently. "Shh, sweetheart… it’s okay," I whispered, though my throat was tight.
Another woman further down the line scoffed. "MAYBE IF YOU SPENT LESS TIME HAVING KIDS YOU CAN'T AFFORD, YOU WOULDN'T BE HOLDING UP THE LINE!"
Another voice joined in. "YEAH, OR MAYBE BUY WHAT YOU CAN ACTUALLY PAY FOR. PEOPLE LIKE THIS MAKE ME SICK!"
My hands trembled as I searched through my purse, counting the few crumpled bills I had. "Could you just ring up the baby food?" I asked quietly.
And that's when I heard it — a deep, firm voice from behind the counter.
"Ma'am. You — with the baby."
I turned around, my heart pounding.⬇️