For three months, Mia’s mom insisted she stay away while her house was being renovated. But something didn’t sit right. When Mia arrives unannounced, she finds the door unlocked, the house eerily pristine, and a strange smell in the air. Mia is about to stumble upon a devastating secret.
The city was just waking up as I drove through its empty streets. Early morning light painted everything in soft hues, but I couldn’t shake this gnawing feeling in my gut. Something was wrong.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white. Mom’s voice echoed in my head as my memory replayed all those hurried phone calls and weird excuses. “Oh, honey, I can’t have you over. The house is a mess with all these renovations.”
But three months without seeing her? That wasn’t like us. We used to be thick as thieves, her and me.
I worried about what had changed as I waited at an intersection. Mom had always been house-proud, constantly tweaking and updating our home. But this felt different.
Her voice on the phone lately… she always sounded so tired. Sad, even. And every time I’d try to press her on it, she’d brush me off. “Don’t worry about me, Mia. How’s that big project at work going? Have you gotten that promotion yet?”
I knew she was keeping something from me, and I’d let it slide for far too long.
So here I was, way too early on a Saturday morning, driving across town because I couldn’t shake this feeling that something was terribly wrong.
As I pulled up to Mom’s house, my heart sank. The garden, usually Mom’s pride and joy, was overgrown and neglected. Weeds poked through the flower beds, and the rosebushes looked like they hadn’t seen pruning shears in months.
“What the hell?” I muttered. I killed the engine and rushed to the gate.
I walked up to the front door, my footsteps echoing in the quiet morning. When I tried the handle, it turned easily. Unlocked. That wasn’t like Mom at all.
Fear prickled across my skin as I stepped inside. There was no dust, or building materials in sight. No sign of a drop cloth or any paint cans either. And what was that smell? Sharp and citrusy. The place was too clean, too sterile. Like a hospital.
“Mom?” I called out.
My eyes swept the entryway, landing on a familiar photo on the side table. It was us at the beach when I was maybe seven or eight. I was grinning at the camera, gap-toothed and sunburned, while Mom hugged me from behind, laughing.
The glass was smudged with fingerprints, mostly over my face. That was weird. Mom was always wiping things down, keeping everything spotless. But this… it looked like someone had been touching the photo a lot, almost frantically.
A chill ran down my spine.
“Mom?” I called again, louder this time. “You here?”
That’s when I heard it. A faint creaking came from upstairs.
My heart raced as I climbed the stairs. The quiet felt heavy, pressing in on me from all sides. I tried to steady my breathing as I walked down the hallway toward Mom’s room.
“Mom?” My voice came out as a whisper now. “It’s me. It’s Mia.”
I pushed open her bedroom door, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis.
There she was, struggling to sit up in bed. But this… this couldn’t be my mother. The woman before me was frail and gaunt, her skin sallow against the white sheets. And her hair… oh God, her beautiful hair was gone, replaced by a scarf wrapped around her head.
“Mia?” Her voice was weak, barely above a whisper. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”
I stood frozen in the doorway, my mind refusing to process what I was seeing.
“Mom? What… what happened to you?”
She looked at me with those familiar brown eyes, now sunken in her pale face. “Oh, honey,” she sighed. “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”
I stumbled to her bedside, dropping to my knees. “Find out what? Mom, please, tell me what’s going on.”
She reached out a thin hand, and I clasped it in both of mine. It felt so fragile, like a bird’s bones.
“I have cancer, Mia,” she said softly.
Time stopped and my world narrowed down to how dry her lips looked as she spoke and the hollow feeling in my chest. I couldn’t breathe.
“… undergoing chemotherapy for the past few months,” she finished.
“Cancer? But… but why didn’t you tell me? Why did you keep this from me?”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “I didn’t want to burden you, sweetheart. You’ve been working so hard for that promotion. I thought… I thought I could handle this on my own.”
Anger flared up inside me, hot and sudden. “Handle it on your own? Mom, I’m your daughter! I should have been here! I should have known!”
“Mia, please,” she pleaded. “I was trying to protect you. I didn’t want you to see me like this, so weak and…”
“Protect me?” I cut her off, my voice rising as tears blurred my vision. “By lying to me? By keeping me away when you needed me most? How could you do that?”
Mom’s face crumpled, and she started to cry, too. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry, Mia. I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want to be a burden.”
I climbed onto the bed beside her, careful not to jostle her too much, and pulled her into my arms.
“Oh, Mom,” I whispered. “You could never be a burden to me. Never.”
We sat there for a long time, just holding each other and crying. All the fear and pain of the past few months came pouring out.
When we finally calmed down, I helped Mom get more comfortable, propping her up with pillows. Then I went downstairs and made us both some tea, my mind reeling with everything I’d learned.
Back in her room, I perched on the edge of the bed, handing her a steaming mug. “So,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Tell me everything. From the beginning.”
And she did. She told me about the diagnosis, the shock, and the fear. How she’d started treatment right away, hoping to beat it before I even knew something was wrong.
“But it spread so fast,” she said, her voice trembling. “By the time I realized how bad it was, I was already so sick.”
I took her hand again, squeezing gently. “Mom, don’t you get it? I love you. All of you. Even the sick parts, even the scared parts. Especially those parts. That’s what family is for.”
She looked at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and regret. “I just… I’ve always been the strong one, you know? Your rock. I didn’t know how to be anything else.”
I smiled through my tears. “Well, now it’s my turn to be the rock. I’m not going anywhere, Mom. We’re in this together, okay?”
She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Okay.”
I moved back in with Mom later that week. I also took time off work and called in every favor I could to get Mom the best care possible, even if all we could do was keep her as comfortable as possible.
We spent her final days together, sharing stories and memories, laughing and crying together. And when the end came, I was right there beside her.
“I’m sorry, Mia,” she whispered. “I wanted… I never took you to Disneyland… I promised to take you camping in the mountains… so many promises I’ve broken…”
“It’s not important.” I moved closer to her on the bed. “What matters is that you were always there for me when I needed you. You always knew how to make me smile when I was sad, or make everything better when I messed something up.” I sniffed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without you, Mom.”
Her eyes cracked open, and she smiled faintly at me.
“You’re going to be okay, Mia. You’re so strong… my amazing daughter. I love you so much.”
I put my arms around her and hugged her as tightly as I dared. I’m not sure exactly when she slipped away, but when I eventually pulled back, Mom was gone.
I stayed there for a long time, trying to hold onto the warmth of our last hug as sobs racked my body, replaying her last words in my mind. Trying to keep her with me, no matter how impossible that was.
Saying goodbye to Mom was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I wouldn’t trade those moments I spent with her for anything in the world.
Because in the end, that’s what love is. It’s showing up, even when it’s hard. It’s being there, even in the darkest moments. It’s holding on tight and never letting go.
Man transforms recycled containers into a modern, eco-friendly 2-bedroom home with luxury amenities
Living in a sustainable, modern home constructed from recycled containers is an enjoyable and rewarding experience.
Reusing shipping containers not only lessens the impact on the environment but also opens up new possibilities for home design creativity and innovation.
These days, container homes are widespread, but very few are regarded as “luxury.”
A man by the name of Nick constructed an opulent, environmentally friendly house out of marine containers on a plot of land in Index, Washington.
The roughly six-acre plot was bought by Nick and his spouse in 2010.
The original plan was to locate a summertime hideaway where families could get together and enjoy the outdoors for river activities and skiing.
Currently, Nick’s family has six tiny cabins on the land, which they began renting out on Airbnb in 2017.
Nick began work on the environmentally friendly Sea Container Cabin project after finishing the Tree House.
The recycled containers that were utilized were produced in 2007. It has minor dings from when it was used to move cargo.
Nonetheless, Nick thinks that his friends, family, and short-term renters will find it valuable due to its originality and distinction.
There are two 40-foot High Cube containers in the green house.
They were divided in half to create a 40-foot cantilever with around 12 feet on each side and two 20-foot containers on the lower level.
This cantilever, which creates a covered entry, is made possible by the repurposed containers’ strength.
The front locking mechanisms have welded handles for aesthetic appeal, emulating a conventional shipping container.
Nick decided to save the site’s roots by using a segmented foundation in order to protect the trees.
To avoid moisture issues and condensation, they employed spray foam insulation with closed cells.
The frames for the doors and windows were welded around the pre-cut containers.
An unusual rooftop hot tub that heats with gas and solar panels is a distinctive outside feature.
From the shipping of the containers in September to the first visitors being welcomed in March, the full building procedure took about six months.
Nick paid $12,000 for three recycling containers, for a grand total of almost $250,000.
When entering the green house, one is struck by how much it looks like a ski hut, complete with vintage skis thrown in for good measure.
The dining space, living room, and kitchen are all part of the open floor design.
A modern touch is added by an electric fireplace along with inventive lighting options that use LED strips concealed in channels.
The kitchen has recycled Paper Stone countertops and basalt tiles with a Lava Rock theme, all done in dark hues.
A convection microwave oven and a two-burner cooktop make up for the lack of a conventional oven and dishwasher.
As you wash dishes in the kitchen, you can enjoy the breathtaking view of a 110-year-old fir tree.
A mini-split system provides both heating and cooling for the container home.
A powder room with a floor-to-ceiling window, Paper Stone countertops, and a spa toilet are located downstairs.
There is a fire pit area, barbeque area, and covered porch in the backyard.
The unique staircase with LED lights on each step is a noteworthy feature. Everett Steel provided the metal components, which combined to create a robust yet sophisticated design.
There are two bedrooms upstairs, each with a basin for a toothbrush, dimmable mirrors, and environmentally friendly cork flooring.
A short queen bed and a skylight with a view of the woodland are features of the guest bedroom.
The slightly longer master bedroom in the eco-friendly house has the same comfortable bed and a skylight.
The bathroom, which has lava rock floors, a steam shower, and a distinctive Basalt strip, is shared by both bedrooms.
You can turn on the steam for a few minutes before getting in to thoroughly experience the hot tub and steam shower.
Situated 30 minutes from Steven’s Pass, this is a true ski chalet that offers the ideal haven after a tiring day of skiing.
Watch the video below to get a tour of Nick’s environmentally friendly house:
Leave a Reply