My Grandson Made Me Sleep on the Yoga Mat Not to Pay for a Hotel, Less than 24 Hours Later Karma Hit Him Back

But the boy I raised with so much love turned into a man I barely recognize anymore.

Tyler is 32 now, and he still lives under my roof. Not because he takes care of me the way a grandson should, but because it’s convenient for him.

“Why should I waste money on rent when you have this big house, Grandma?” he says, like it’s my privilege to house a grown man who contributes nothing to the bills.

What made it worse was this whole new persona he’d taken on in the last few years. He got deep into this so-called spiritual lifestyle.

There were meditation sessions at dawn that woke me up with his chanting, yoga mats rolled out in my living room where I used to watch my morning shows, and books about chakras and raising vibrations scattered all over the coffee table.

To outsiders, he probably looked enlightened and peaceful. But to me, living with him day in and day out, it always felt like a mask he was wearing. A performance covering up his refusal to get a steady job, his constant excuses for why he couldn’t contribute to groceries, and those shady friends who came and went at all hours of the night, whispering about investments and opportunities.

So, when he came to me three weeks ago with a suggestion for a trip, I was genuinely shocked.

“Grandma, Willow and I want to take a little weekend getaway to Charleston, and we want you to come along,” he said. “Just the three of us.”

Willow was his new girlfriend, a sharp-boned young woman in her late twenties with crystals hanging from her ears and a voice that always sounded like she was humming some tune only she could hear.

“Why would you want me tagging along?” I asked him, suspicious.