My parents downsized.
They had to live according to their actual income.
That meant fewer trips.
Smaller housing.
Watching utility bills.
Sabrina sold some of the things she had bought when my cards were available.
She eventually took ordinary work.
I heard various versions of their struggles through relatives.
Some accounts were probably exaggerated.
Some were probably true.
I stopped investigating.
That was part of the boundary too.
If I was no longer responsible for rescuing them, I also did not need to monitor their downfall.
Mom wrote me twice.
The first letter was mostly blame.
The second was different.
She wrote:
We became used to you fixing everything.
I sat with that sentence.
It was not a complete apology.
But it was true.
For years, I had reinforced the arrangement.
They asked.
I paid.
They expected.
I paid.
They forgot to appreciate it.
I paid anyway.
Eventually they stopped experiencing my generosity as generosity.
It became infrastructure.
The lights turn on.
The water runs.
Jacqueline pays.
Nobody thanks electricity.
They only notice when it stops.
Sabrina emailed too.