When Leo came back for his next visit, he stopped just inside the door and looked around the hallway as if he was checking for hidden guests. When I told him that no one else was there, he relaxed so visibly that it made my throat hurt with a mixture of pride and grief.
We spent the entire weekend building a massive Lego city on the floor without any interruptions from the family or notifications on my phone. He asked if Grandma still had a key, and when I told him no, he simply said that was good before going back to his toys.
Sarah noticed the change when she came by to drop off his boots, and she told me that she had seen me more relaxed lately than she had in years. She admitted that my mother had reached out to her to ask her to talk sense into me, but Sarah told her that a child’s room is not a guest room.
My mother eventually asked to meet for coffee in a neutral location where she admitted that she had used her help like a receipt for far too long. She apologized for not seeing my home as a separate space, and we agreed that future visits with Leo would happen at parks rather than my apartment.