Ever since I got my own phone at five years old, I’ve been getting messages from a stranger. She calls me Mom. At three o’clock this morning, she messaged me again. “Mom, I dreamed of you again. The attic is leaking, and my stepmom made me soak up the water with a rag. But the rag was too small. I’ve been wiping all night, but it’s still wet. Mom, I’m so cold and hungry right now. I miss you so much…” I tilted my head, watching the rain lash against the windowpane, and typed back a serious reply: “Don’t be scared, sweetie. Where are you? Mommy will bring you something yummy to eat!” 1. “Who are you?” A message shot back almost instantly. I was confused. I blinked my big eyes and pouted. “Weren’t you the one who called me Mom?” Why is she asking who I am now? To prove I was a responsible mother, I even added a cute and patient little smiley face at the end. :) But I waited for a long, long time. My daughter never replied, and I drifted off into a hazy sleep. The next morning, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, the first thing I did was fumble for my phone. There was a new message on the screen. From my daughter. “You’re not my mom. My mom passed away five years ago.” I looked down at my own round little tummy and puffed out my chest, planting my hands firmly on my hips. “That’s rude! I’m only five years old, and I’m alive and kicking!” A moment later, it hit me. Her mom must have disappeared five years ago. My mommy says that when people disappear, they come back as new people. And I’m exactly five years old. Maybe I really am her mom. Whenever we play house, I’m famous among all the other kids for being the best mommy! I was just about to share this brilliant discovery with her when a new message arrived. “I don’t know who you are, but thank you.” “This was my mom’s old phone number. Today is my 18th birthday. If it’s not too much to ask, could you… could you wish me a happy birthday?” I slipped my feet into my bunny slippers, recorded a voice note in my squeaky little voice, and sent it to her. “Happy birthday, sweetie! Be happy and eat yummy candy every day!” Then another thought struck me. Every year on my birthday, Mom and Dad give me presents. So my daughter must need a big birthday present too, right? I started typing again. “It’s your birthday! What present do you want from Mommy?” “Mommy likes cute dolls and chocolate. What do you like?” The girl on the other end hesitated for a long time before replying. “Could you… could you send me a few painkillers?” I didn’t know what painkillers were. But I knew that people only take medicine when they’re sick. I quickly typed back, “Sweetie, are you sick?” “My stepmom locked me in the attic last night…” she began, as if she was afraid I’d misunderstand. “She said I stole money and locked me in the attic and beat me. My body hurts all over. All I want is a painkiller.” Stepmothers sounded awful. Just like the evil queen in Snow White. I huffed, my cheeks puffing out as I messaged my daughter. “Your stepmom is a mean, mean monster! Don’t worry, sweetie. Don’t be scared. My dad is super strong. I’ll get him to go bite your stepmom to get revenge for you!” I immediately asked for her address and scampered downstairs to find Mrs. Gable, our housekeeper. “Mrs. Gable! Lily needs a courier!” Then I grabbed the medicine box from the cabinet, got down on the floor, and started rummaging through it with my little bottom stuck in the air. The boxes were a kaleidoscope of colors, but I couldn't read any of them. I looked left, I looked right, but nothing seemed right. Mrs. Gable saw my little face scrunched up in concentration and chuckled. “Lily, honey, what are you doing with the medicine box?” I looked up at her. “Mrs. Gable, which one of these is for pain?” Her expression immediately turned serious. She scooped me up from the floor, her hand gently touching my forehead and palms. “What’s wrong, Lily-bug? Are you hurt somewhere?” I shook my head obediently. “I’m not hurt. But it’s my daughter’s birthday, and I need to send her some painkillers!” Mrs. Gable, thinking I was playing with one of my dolls, smiled and gently corrected me. “Oh, sweetie. On birthdays, we eat cake, not painkillers.” Her words were a revelation. I slapped my forehead. Of course! For her birthday, I needed to send my daughter not just painkillers, but also a little cake and some sweet, sweet candy. That way, the medicine wouldn't taste so bitter. 2. I immediately asked Mrs. Gable to help me order a cute little cake. She had no idea what I was up to, but she thoughtfully placed the order for me anyway. I chose an adorable unicorn cake, bought two boxes of painkillers, and added a bag of my most treasured, super-secret stash of cream-filled candies that I hardly ever let myself eat. I packed everything into a cute pink bag and had a courier deliver it to my daughter’s school. “To my dearest sweetie, Mommy got you lots of presents. Remember to eat a piece of candy after you take the medicine so it won’t be bitter. Happy Birthday!” After the order was complete, I made sure to ask the courier, “Sir, is my daughter okay?” The courier let out a soft sigh. “That poor girl… she was covered in bruises, all black and blue. Looked like she’s been abused. Her clothes were full of patches, and her face was so pale. It was heartbreaking to see.” My heart twisted into a knot as I listened. What mother wouldn’t worry about her daughter? A little while later, my daughter sent me a photo of her eating the cake. “Thank you. This is the first time I’ve had a birthday cake since my mom died. The cake is delicious, and the candy is so sweet.” “You’re welcome, sweetie! From now on, Mommy will get you a cake for every single birthday!” “Thank you, Mom.” Gleefully, I opened my phone and searched online: How to raise a daughter. The internet said you have to spoil your daughter, give her all the most wonderful things in the world… I nodded in understanding, my gaze slowly falling upon my little pink piggy bank. When my mom walked into my room with a strawberry milkshake, I was whacking my piggy bank with a small toy hammer. Clang! Clang! Clang! Coins scattered across the carpet like fizzy candy, and I was on all fours, picking them up one by one. “This one is for candy for my daughter… this one is for a new dress… this one is for the newest toy… and this one is for Daddy, so he can go teach her stepmom a lesson!” My mom leaned against the doorframe, a smile playing on her lips as she listened to my muttering. “Lily-bug, why did you smash your favorite piggy bank? Is there a new toy you want to buy?” I scrambled up and threw my arms around her legs excitedly. “I have a daughter now, so of course I have to provide for her!” Mom was stunned. “Where did you get a daughter?” I held up my phone, pointing to the text messages on the screen. “I found her myself! She’s a poor, pitiful girl with no mommy, and her stepmom bullies her.” “I read online that raising a daughter is very expensive. I have to start working hard now.” Mom looked at me, a helpless expression on her face, and tried to explain patiently, “Honey, there are a lot of bad people in the world. Not everyone loves you like Mommy and Daddy do. What if the person on the other end is a scammer?” But I didn't believe her. “No way. If she was a scammer, she would have asked for lots and lots of presents. But my daughter only asked for a single painkiller.” “Her mommy left her. If I, her new mommy, don’t take care of her, her stepmom will bully her to death!” Mom sighed. “No, she won’t. The police will help her.” I shook my head. “The police can’t help everyone. But I’m her mom. I’ll protect her.” Just then, my dad walked in. The briefcase in his hand thudded to the floor. “What? My baby is a mother?” “But Lily, you’re still so little. You don’t even know how to tie your own shoes yet…” “You don’t have to know how to tie shoes to be a mommy!” I retorted, tilting my head. “To be a mommy, you just have to wipe away tears, share your candy, and…” I stood on my tiptoes and kissed both of my parents on the cheek. “And you have to say ‘I love you’ a hundred times every single day!” “I know I can be a good mommy!” 3. My parents, left speechless by my declaration, let out a soft sigh. “Alright, then. We believe you can be a good mommy, too.” “But we need to make sure you’re safe. So, we’re going to do a little background check on this girl, okay?” I didn’t really understand what they were talking about. All I knew was that my daughter was a good, sweet girl, and my parents would definitely love her too. That night, my daughter sent me a picture. It was a dark, cramped attic, with a single, thin quilt spread out on the cold floor. “This is where I sleep every night.” Looking at that dark, miserable attic, my heart ached for her. I turned and took a picture of the star projector in my own room. “Don’t be scared, sweetie. I’ll share my starlight with you!” She replied with a smiling face. “Okay!” Then she sent another photo. It was a faded family portrait. In it, she was smiling brightly, held by a beautiful woman who had a distinct mole on her ear… I scrambled out of bed and looked at my own ear in the mirror. Then I ran to show my mom. “Mommy, look! I have the same mark on my ear as my daughter’s mom!” I carefully took a picture of my ear and sent it. “My grandpa told me that when people pass away, they come back to this world with a gift. See? I have a mole in the exact same spot as your mom!” The phone was silent for a long time. Finally, the girl on the other end replied softly. “Will you… will you stay with me forever, then? Mom.” “Of course!” I knew, deep down, that this was different from playing house. This time, I had a real daughter. And I would always be there for her. Later that evening, my grandma and grandpa sent me some gift money. Without a second thought, I generously transferred it all to my daughter. The girl on the other end was shocked. “Why are you giving me money?” I told her, “Because you’re my daughter! It’s a mommy’s job to give her daughter an allowance!” She immediately sent the transfer back. The chat bubble showed she was typing, but it took a long time for the message to come through. “Thank you, but I really can’t take your money. My dad is a sailor, and he sends money for my tuition and living expenses to the school. I can eat at the school cafeteria…” “Mom, all I need is for you to be here for me, to listen to me talk every day. That’s enough.” My eyes welled up. My daughter was so thoughtful and mature. “Okay. From now on, you can tell Mommy anything!” Suddenly, my phone started buzzing. It was a call from my daughter. I froze, not knowing what to do. What if she finds out I’m only five? Will she not let me be her mom anymore? After a moment of panic, I answered the call. From the other end, I could hear the drip-drip-drip of rain hitting the floor, and then an older girl’s voice. “Hello? Thank you for being willing to be here for me, in my mom’s place.” I tried to lower my voice, but I couldn’t hide the squeaky, childish tone. “It’s what a mommy’s supposed to do!” Her voice trembled. “Thank you. Right now… besides Ginger, you’re the only one who’s here for me.” I tilted my head. “Who’s Ginger?” “He was my mom’s cat. He’s nine years old now, a real old man.” My daughter sent a picture over. The orange cat in the photo was a round, fluffy ball, but the tips of his fur were turning white. You could tell he was an old-timer. I gasped in delight. “Wow, what a cute kitty! From now on, you’ll have me and the kitty with you. So don’t you be sad anymore, okay, daughter?” “Okay,” she whispered. “I won’t be sad.” And so, we started talking on the phone every night. She would share stories about her day at school, telling me that growing up was a journey full of both joy and challenges. And I would pick up the new fairytale book my mom bought me and read her the latest stories. My mom and dad would stand in my doorway, looking a little jealous. They’d shake their heads and say with a sigh, “See? The moment our daughter has a child of her own, she forgets all about us old folks!” “Lily, are you not sleeping with Mommy again tonight?” I looked up, my little face beaming with excitement. “Mommy, my daughter’s name is Autumn! Isn’t that a beautiful name?” “She sounds like a lovely princess!” My dad nodded with a weary smile. “Yes, yes. Your daughter is better than my daughter.” I pouted in protest. “Your daughter is pretty great too!”
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