There was no point in waiting.
The snow outside the window slowly covered the ground with white fluff, and people passing my window were carrying bags full of shopping. Christmas Eve was supposed to be in a few days, but my house was quiet and cold. There was only a bottle of milk in the fridge and a few dry slices of bread in the cupboard. My children, who always looked forward to this magical time, this time asked questions to which I had no answers.
– „Mom, when are we going to decorate the Christmas tree?” – Kamil, my youngest, asked, looking at me with hope.
I smiled, even though I felt something inside me breaking.
– „Soon, my love. Just a little while.”
But the truth was different. There was no point in waiting. I didn't have money to buy a Christmas tree, let alone presents or food for the holidays. Everything went to bills, and what was left was barely enough for everyday needs. I tried to ask for help, but every door I knocked on closed in my face.
What hurt me the most was the reaction of my parents. When I called them, my mother immediately interrupted me in mid-sentence.
– „We can't keep helping you, Marta. You have your life, and we have ours. You have to manage somehow.”
– „But mom, it's only for the holidays. Kids…– I tried to explain, but she cut me off sharply.
– „Martuś, everyone has it tough. We can't take on your problems. Maybe you should manage your money better.”
As I put the phone down, I felt tears streaming down my cheeks. I had always tried to cope on my own. But now I was on edge. I felt like I had let my children down, like I was not able to give them even a little joy during this special time.
That night, when the kids were asleep, I sat at the kitchen table and looked at the last few coins I had in my wallet. I knew it wouldn’t even be enough for a decent dinner. I felt more helpless than I had ever felt before. Was this how the holidays were supposed to be? Hungry children and tears behind closed doors?
The next day, I decided to do something I had never done before. I went to the local social welfare center. It wasn’t easy. I was burning with shame, but when I thought about my children, I knew I had to try. The worker at the center looked at me with concern when I told her my story.
– “You’re not alone, Marta,” she said quietly. – “We’ll see what we can do.””
I came home that day with a package of food. There was pasta, cans of preserves, even chocolate for the kids. It wasn’t much, but for me it was a miracle. For the first time in weeks, I felt a glimmer of hope.
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