I majored in mechanical engineering.
Eleanor phoned every Sunday.
“Have you eaten properly?”
“Yes, Eleanor.”
“Are you sleeping?”
“Sometimes.”
“Then sleep more. Even geniuses need rest.”
Those conversations made me laugh more than I had throughout childhood.
Meanwhile, my parents never reached out.
Not for birthdays, graduation, or my first engineering job.
Four years later, Eleanor attended my graduation in a ridiculous purple hat.
She cried louder than anyone.
“I’m proud of you, Sarah.”
Those five words meant almost as much as the first five she’d spoken.
Three years after graduating, I started a company designing industrial energy-efficiency systems.
Eleanor encouraged my plans.
I hadn’t known she’d worked as an accountant for decades and quietly invested her savings.
She wasn’t exceptionally wealthy, but she understood business better than anyone I knew.
She guided me through financial projections, contract negotiations, and avoiding predatory investors.
Eventually, my company landed several major manufacturing clients.
