I paid for my family’s dream vacation. Flights, hotels, everything. They posted happy selfies—until I got the call from Grandma.
She was still at the airport. Abandoned.
“They said I’d make them miss their flight,” she told me, her voice small.
I confronted my aunt. Her response? “We’re not babysitters.”
So I took action.
I canceled their hotel. Locked them out of my Netflix. Let them figure it out.
When they realized what happened, my aunt was livid. “We slept outside!”
“Now you know how Grandma felt,” I said.
That weekend, Grandma and I had the best time. She told me stories I’d never heard, we ate junk food, and I introduced her to hip-hop. (Turns out, she loves it.)
My aunt’s apology came too late. Six months later, she still hasn’t visited.
But Grandma? She’s never been happier. And I’ve never been prouder to call her family.
