I remember when in my first two years at primary school, outside our classroom from time to time would stand a woman looking into the windows at us. I cannot remember how we realised the woman was one of our classmates’ mother, but we just did at some point.
We kind of knew it was to do with that woman not living with her daughter, having to come to school to see her, etc. etc. As a child that age, I somehow felt ashamed for that woman. I felt she must have done something wrong. Of course back then I did not yet understand how complicated life could possibly be. Now I do, and I now feel ashamed for myself for having thought of her that way. She should now be in her sixties, and I sincerely wish her well.