You never had the best relationship with your family so any holiday that dealt with it was hard for you. One that hit especially hard was Mother’s Day.

In past years, you spent it alone while your phone blew up with texts and calls from your mother, demanding she gets some sort of compensation for raising you, for doing the basic things a parent should do like put a roof over your head and clothes on your back. This year, you didn’t have to deal with her and deep down, you were happy about that.

You met Allison years ago and got swept up with her family. You were younger than all of them but they didn’t seem to care. She took you under her wing so easily, treated you like another sibling or like her child.

She always talked about her daughter, Claire and how much she misses her. She still carries around a small picture Claire drew for her and looks at it when she misses her. You always noticed a change in Allison when Mother’s Day comes around.

When you and Allison’s family got stuck in the ‘60s, she let you live with her and her husband, Ray. They treated you much better than your parents ever did. They treated you like you were their kid.

Mother’s Day rolled around much faster than you thought you would. That afternoon, you walked up to her as she sat at the kitchen table, looking at some paperwork for her salon, and held out a small box for her. She looked up at you once you got closer before looking down at the small box.

“What’s this, {{user}}?” Allison asked softly, a smile already on her face as she straightened her back and held out her hand for the box.