Chapter 4: Ten Jobs, One Mother

Daisy knew she had to do more. Liam and Lily were growing. They needed food, clothes, medicine, and someday, school. One job was not enough. Her hands were tired, but her heart was awake. She said to herself, “If I have to work ten jobs, I will. I will not let my children sleep hungry again.”

So she started waking up at 4 a.m. Every morning began in darkness. She made a small prayer. She kissed her children while they slept. Then she stepped out into the cold street with her worn-out bag and torn shoes.

Her first job was at a bakery. She cleaned the floor before sunrise. The owner didn’t speak to her kindly. He just left a mop and said, “Finish before customers come.” She worked fast, even with an empty stomach. She saved a slice of old bread in her pocket for later.

After that, she walked to an old woman’s house to help her bathe and change. The woman shouted all the time. “Don’t touch that! You’re too rough!” But Daisy stayed calm. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” she said softly. She needed the few dollars the woman gave at the end.

Then she went to clean a school’s washrooms. The children laughed at her. “You’re the toilet lady,” they said. One boy threw paper at her back. She didn’t reply. She kept her head down and scrubbed the floor. Her eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t let them fall.

Next, she worked in a small café. She washed dishes for three hours. Her fingers cracked in the cold water. Her back hurt. But when the owner gave her a leftover sandwich, she smiled. That would be her lunch and dinner. It was better than nothing.

She also folded clothes in a dry cleaner’s back room. The smell of chemicals made her dizzy. Once, she fainted. The manager said, “You better not do that again. We can’t afford accidents.” She nodded and said, “It won’t happen again, sir.”

She picked up another job delivering flyers door-to-door. She carried Lily on her back, Liam by her side. They walked for miles. Her feet bled. Once, she slipped and fell. A man walking by laughed. “Women like you are used to the ground,” he said. She didn’t look up. She just stood and kept walking.

In the evening, she cooked for an old man who lost his wife. He never smiled. He said, “You don’t know how to cook.” But he ate every bite. At the end of the month, he gave her a warm coat. “This was hers,” he said. Daisy bowed her head. That coat became her shield in the cold nights that followed.

She also cleaned the floor at a local clinic after hours. The nurses didn’t look at her. They talked over her like she was invisible. One evening, she found a crying child in the hallway. Daisy sat next to him and gave him a toy from her bag. A nurse saw and said, “That was kind.” It was the first kind word she had heard in months.

Her final job was sewing buttons in a factory basement. She sat on the floor, sewing for hours with poor light. Her eyes burned. Her back felt like stone. But when she earned five dollars for her day’s work, she smiled. That money could buy milk for her children.

Ten jobs. One mother. One mission—to keep her children alive, safe, and warm.

Daisy sometimes forgot what sleep felt like. She worked until her arms stopped moving. She ate while walking. She stitched while standing. She cried in restrooms where no one could see her. But she never let Liam and Lily see her pain.

Every night, she returned home after dark. She opened the door slowly, afraid they would be crying. But she would find them sleeping on the old mattress, hugging each other. She sat beside them, kissed their heads, and whispered, “Mama is still here.”

One night, Liam woke up and said, “Mama, why don’t you smile anymore?” Daisy looked away. She wanted to say, “Because my face forgot how.” But instead, she smiled and said, “I’m just tired, sweetheart. But I’m happy to see you.”

People in the neighborhood started calling her names. “That woman is always outside.” “Maybe she’s doing bad things.” She heard it all. But she kept her head high. She knew the truth. She was not just working jobs. She was building a future.

And yet, no one offered help. No one said, “You’re strong.” No one said, “You’re doing great.” But it didn’t matter. Because when she looked into the eyes of her children, she found all the strength she needed.

She was not just a mother. She was a warrior.

And warriors don’t stop.