Being a single parent to twins has been hard, especially since life throws me curveballs all the time. But I wasn’t ready for what I found inside an old washing machine I bought since I needed it.
I am 34 years old and have twins who are three years old named Bella and Lily. Their mom left us when they were just a few months old. I’ve been doing everything I can to take care of them since then. But I didn’t think a stranger would change our lives forever.
When she left, my children’s mother said she wasn’t “cut out for diapers and midnight feedings.” Of course, I asked her to stay. I told her we could work things out, but she didn’t listen. She was so done that she didn’t even help with child support.
The woman I thought would be with me forever didn’t even phone or get in touch. It was as she had never been there. I had to deal with the problem on my own because I was sure she was telling the truth and wouldn’t come back.
I got a permanent job doing IT work from home so I could be with my kids. I worked when the twins were sleeping, late at night, early in the morning, and whenever they were in daycare.
Back then, coffee was my only hope. Some days I felt like a zombie, but I kept telling myself that the girls were my primary concern. We didn’t find our rhythm right away, but we did.
Then, this year, everything went apart at once.
Do you know what people mean when they say, “When it rains, it pours”? That’s exactly what happened. Everything that might have gone wrong did.
Bella and Lily’s daycare suddenly closed because someone there was exposed to COVID-19. I was stuck at home with the kids and couldn’t make any other plans because it happened so quickly.
My employer went through “restructuring,” which means my pay went down by a huge 20%, which was already hard to deal with. When I was still attempting to deal with the loss of money, my mom, who was my only backup, was diagnosed with a heart problem. Medicare wouldn’t cover all of her surgery!
But I promise you, the universe wasn’t done with me yet.
A few weeks after my mom got sick, the rent on the house where I lived with the twins went raised. I thought things couldn’t get much worse, but then my washing machine broke!
I have to say that I felt a lot more overwhelmed than when the twins’ mother was there. I even considered about trying to find her or taking her to court to make her pay child support. But I didn’t. I figured it would be more enjoyable to figure it out on my own than to argue with my ex.
If you’ve ever had kids, you know that doing laundry is a big part of everyday life. Having these two means that your fingers will always be sticky, your potty training will go wrong, your socks will get muddy, and your yogurt will explode. It never stops!
I tried to be strong.
I spent two days scrubbing everything by hand in the tub. My back hurt, my fingers hurt, and I still couldn’t keep up. So, I called in an expert to look at the broken machine because it was the best option.
The repairman exclaimed, “Oh, this machine is really broken” after looking at the washing machine.
“But can you save it?” I asked, feeling both scared and hopeful.
“Well, let me be honest with you. It will cost you a lot to fix this old gear. It would be wiser to buy a secondhand one. That would be cheaper.
The man was kind enough to provide me the name of someone who would pay me to take the machine apart and sell the parts. I said thank you.
I tried to wash the twins’ clothes on the third day, but my hands started to hurt and bleed from the cuts.
“Your hand is red with blood, Daddy,” Bella said. When my sister noticed my bruises, she turned white and threw up on her clothes. That was all I needed.
I put the double stroller in the car and strapped the kids into their car seats, even though it made me feel bad. I wanted to find something that wasn’t too expensive. I went to a store near me that sells old appliances. There were fridges outside that didn’t match, and a notice on the wall that proclaimed “No refunds!”
The service person was right: there were a few machines that worked, and the prices were really fair. I was crouching down to examine at a broken and used Whirlpool machine when I heard a soft voice behind me.
“They’re so cute.” “Twins?”
I turned around and glanced up. There was an elderly woman there, maybe in her late 60s. Her gray hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and she wore a gorgeous floral top. Her eyes were the sweetest I’d ever seen.
I nodded and tried to grin. “Twice the trouble.”
She laughed. “Where is Mom today?” Is it Daddy’s turn with the kids?
My throat got tight. I didn’t appreciate having to give a response. But there was something in her face… I only told the truth. “There’s no mom in the picture.” Just me and them.
Her face relaxed. “I’m sorry.” That must be hard.
I didn’t care. “Thanks.” Some days are tougher than others. But we’re doing everything we can.
She gently nodded, as if she knew more than she stated. Then she gently touched the stroller. “You’re doing a great job. Keep it in mind.
I thanked her, and as she went away down another aisle, she cried, “And you should check out this Samsung machine over here on the corner.” I think you’ll like it.
“Thanks,” I yelled, feeling happy and full of energy from what she said.
I was feeling terrible when I went to the store because of everything that was going on in my life, but the stranger made me feel better. I started talking to another customer who came into the same aisle about the many kinds of washing machines.
Ultimately, I decided to go with the old washing machine that the woman had suggested. I just gave them $120 in cash. The individual selling it claimed, “It still spins.”
That was okay with me. I was able to get it into my old Ford with the help of the individual I had talked to.
When we got home, I had to keep the machine in the car until my neighbor returned home from work. Then, he helped me take apart the old, broken machine and get rid of it. The appliance repairman told me to sell it to the right person.
My neighbor helped me move the Samsung inside, and I put it up as the kids built a tower of blocks in the living room. I believed I would be too frightened to sleep if I waited until tomorrow to use the machine because I thought it would be broken.
I put the first load of dirty clothes in the machine, hit the cycle button, and… nothing happened. The drum didn’t move!
I cursed under my breath as I opened the door to the machine and looked around inside, pretending I understood what I was doing. That’s when I saw it.
A little cardboard box within protected the drum from turning.
It was hard for me to get it out because I didn’t know how it got there in the first place.
Someone had pasted a folded note on top of the box using adhesive. It was written in elegant cursive:
“For you and your kids.” —M”
I was even more bewildered when I thought about whether the thrift store had forgotten to put the box inside before putting it up for sale. I got upset since I knew that meant the store never tested to see if the machine worked!
But I saw the note’s meaning. The individual who wrote the note has kids, too, like I do. Was the note really meant for me?
When I opened the lid, I shook my hands.
There were two shiny home keys on a ring with a red plastic tag inside. Below them was a printed address.
I thought it was a mistake at first, but then my stomach fell. It was the elderly woman who worked at the store!
I sat down hard on the floor of the laundry room. The kids came over to see what I was doing because they were tired of playing their games.
“What’s the matter, Daddy?” Lily asked.
I looked at the keys I had in my hand. “I… I still don’t know.
That night, I rarely slept because I was trying to figure out what to do with what I had uncovered. I was happy that I didn’t have to work the next day, so staying up late thinking about this wouldn’t have made me exhausted when I was taking care of the kids.
When the sun came up, I had already made my choice. I needed to know where the address led. After breakfast and a bath, I put the twins in their car seats and checked the address I had placed into Google Maps the night before.
It took us approximately an hour to get to the edge of town, which was where we were staying. I know it was a bad idea and a waste of petrol, but I wanted to see for myself.
We quickly found ourselves on a quiet road with oak trees on both sides.
And then I saw it, like in one of those “Extreme Makeover: Home Edition” shows where the bus moves and the family finally sees their new home.
It was a small white house with green shutters. The porch looked strong, but the grass was too long, which showed that the house hadn’t been taken care of regularly.
There was a sign that said “For Sale” on the fence. It was ancient and worn out.
As I parked, I could feel my heart beating. The kids moved their necks. “Who lives here, Dad?” Bella wanted to know.
Lily questioned, “Is this our new home?”
“I don’t know, my angels.” I told them to “Please wait here for Daddy.”
My babies all agreed at once, but they were quickly sidetracked by the small electronic objects in their hands.
I unbuckled my seatbelt and went to the door. I wasn’t there to do anything wrong, but I kept glancing around like I was going to break in.
With shaky, unsure hands, I inserted the key in the lock. I was surprised and happy to find out that it was so easy. I looked around quickly to make sure no one was observing me.
I didn’t want the cops to show up at my door.
The door creaked open, and there was a faint smell of lavender and dust. The living room was tidy but not very elegant. The floors were made of wood, the fireplace was made of stone, and some of the curtains had lost their color.
Then I saw something that shocked me.
There is furniture in the house!
It wasn’t new, but it was great, far better than what we had at home. There was a couch, a dining table, and even pictures of a woman and her family in frames on the walls.
I recognized that the house wasn’t vacant; it was… waiting.
I needed to see more, so I walked back to the car, unbuckled the twins, and brought them inside. My brain was spinning. But I took care to lock the car three times first. I really didn’t want this to be a trap, but when we went back outside, we found out that the car was stolen.
There was furniture in every room of the house!
But the best part was that the fridge was full too! I had placed the twins down, and they were exploring on their own as I tried to figure things out.
After that, I saw something else. There was another note on the counter.
“This house used to belong to my sister. She passed away last year. She always wanted kids, but she could never have any. I think she would like to know that her home is full of life again. Do what you have to do. Take care of the twins. It’s yours now. —M”
I dropped onto the couch, clutching that paper like it was a lifeline. It said “twins” on the note. I couldn’t see well because of the tears, but for the first time in months, I felt hopeful.
I couldn’t stop thinking about how I had to find “M,” the woman in the flowered blouse, a few days after we found the house.
I went back to the store that sells used stuff. Jim, the same guy, was behind the counter looking at an old brochure for appliances.
“Hey,” I said. “Do you know the older woman I talked to last week? We were both looking at the washers. She had gray hair and wore a blouse with flowers on it. “Had kind eyes?”
Jim slowly looked up and gave a nod.
He said, “You mean Margaret?”
“Yes.” Margaret. Do you know where I can find her?
He reached behind the bar and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“She said you would come back and give this to you.”
I opened it and didn’t feel anything.
The note had her full name and address, but it didn’t have a phone number. Just a little note with the same steady cursive writing.
Jim added, “I think she wanted you to come find her.” “She said that sometimes people need a push.”
I found her a week later. The twins stayed with their granny, who was getting better.
Margaret lived alone in a small apartment on the other side of town. When I knocked on her door, she smiled as if she had been waiting for me.
“I was wondering when you would get here,” she said.
“Why?” I asked, my voice breaking. “Why would you do this for us?”
She reached out and stroked my arm gently. “Because a stranger did it for me once.” When I was your age, I had nothing. A woman let me stay in her house for free until I could get back on my feet. It kept me alive. I promised myself that I would help someone else if I ever could.
I started crying right there in front of her door. She hugged me like a son and brought me inside.
I finally questioned Margaret when and how she got the keys into the machine before I took it. She brewed some coffee.
Margaret told me that while I was occupied talking to the customer who helped me load the machine into my car and taking care of the kids, she silently went back to the washer she had suggested. She always carried her sister’s house keys in her purse, not because she needed them, but because she imagined that one day she might meet someone who needed them more than she did.
In that brief time, she reached inside her purse, took out the small cardboard box she had prepared months before, and carefully placed it within the washing machine’s drum. After that, she asked the store owner for a piece of paper and wrote down the address of the house.
She quietly left the store without saying anything else and went straight to her sister’s house, where she put the second letter.
That was half a year ago. Now, the twins each have their own room. We planted flowers in the front yard. My mom is feeling better now that she had surgery that she really needed. She is now safe in the guest room that Margaret made us make up for her.
Sometimes I still sit by the fire and listen to my twins laugh in the hallway. I think about how close I was to giving up. I think about how life may hurt you and benefit you at the same time.
A woman in a floral top observed a tired parent at a thrift store and offered to help him. He chose to change his life for good reasons.