A miser makes a wonderful ancestor

“I hate you mom, you're a miser!”

Thelma had to look up the meaning of the word. She wasn't one to peruse through the pages of a dictionary in search of anything, but that day, she knew she had to search it out.

Miser: A person who hoards wealth and spends as little money as possible.

Thelma looked down at her trembling fingers, biting the insides of her cheek to prevent the tears that persisted down her wrinkling face. She noticed those wrinkles three days ago. The sides of her eyes were folded into tiny pleats, her cheeks were sunken and bags sat comfortably under her eyes.

Source

She knew what was going on with her but she didn't know how to be better.

It began with Frederick Russ, her father, who in turn told her how he watched his father account for every single penny in his life.

“My father was not a wasteful man…” he would begin, pouring himself a glass of scotch and leaning into his rocking chair. “... He knew how to subdue money, running free from the grasp of extravagance. He didn't get us toys or any of those privileges we saw children enjoy…” A distant look would come into his eyes then, “Instead, he got us pets to take care of. Two rabbits for each child. I called mine Betty and Butter”.

Thelma knew the story, but he did the honors of telling it to her over again when she asked him for money. Especially money to do something he traditionally termed ‘extravagant’.

“My father said those rabbits were to teach us responsibility. And he never gave us money to feed them; we had to work around the farm, get paid, and then source food for our rabbits. He said we would learn how to use money profitably when we earned our pay.”

It was almost like she was before her father now. With his thinning gray hair and sea green eyes, rocking back and forth on that old chair. Sometimes, he had his legs on the table before him, moving them to a rhythm only he could hear.

Only that she was always gritting her teeth in fury when she stood before him, instead of cowering in stifled tears like she was doing now.

She remembered swearing that she was going to be a better parent, unlike her stingy father and nonchalant mother who would always say “Listen to your father, he knows best”

It broke her heart to see that her 17-year-old, Mia, could look her in the face and call her a miser. She wasn't concerned when Mia said she hated her, She was one feisty child who spoke the first word that came to her mind irrespective of how hurting it could be, Thelma knew she never meant any of those things she said when she was upset.

Calling her a miser was quite different though. It was a slap to her face. She thought she had tried her best to not be like her parents; listening to her daughter more, establishing friendships with her and her friends, letting her earn and spend the way she wanted to, or so she thought until Mia called her a miser.

She wiped the tears and snort off her face, splashed some water to lighten her appearance, and then headed out to look for Mia. She knew where to find her; whenever Mia was upset some years ago, she would go to the tree house her father built for her when she was 6, crouch in there, and sulk all day. She stopped when they found a snake there almost 2 years ago.

Now she sat by the lake just a couple of miles away from their house, throwing stones into the calm river. Thelma lowered herself to the ground beside her, silently thanking God that Mia didn't move away like she thought she would.

“I'm sorry” Mia didn't say a word, she just kept plonking rocks into the large body of water. “I spent a great part of my life hearing the phrase “I don't have money”, I told myself I was going to be different but…” she couldn't stop the tears as they blinded her vision now. Mia turned and surrounded her neck with her arms.

“I just need you to stop complaining about not having money. You have enough to live a good life, use it. No matter how hard you try, your money will be spent. If not by you, by someone else who may even be more reckless at spending…”

Thelma listened, nodding her head in concurrence. She didn't know where Mia got the wisdom but the girl was right. She wrapped her arms around her to feel her daughter close. She wasn't going to lose her, especially not because of money.