Mom doesn't need more money. She needs you to call

She leans on her cane down the village road, one 50,000-dong note folded tight in her shirt pocket. The woman at the corner shop asks what she's buying. Nothing, really. She just hands over the note and asks for phone credit.

Her child lives far away and sends money home every month, without fail. She keeps almost all of it in an old tin box; dinner is still one bowl of greens. The only thing she spends it on is calling. When the call connects, she smiles like she's just been handed a gift.

Her child asks if she needs anything. She says she has enough — the parcels from last time are still tied with string. Then the whole call is about her child: have you eaten, are you sleeping, is it cold there. Her child talks longer than usual. She listens to every word.

Far from home, it's easy to think sending money is enough. But scroll through the call log and it's almost always her calling first. She isn't waiting for money. She's waiting for one question, a few stories, a sign that her child is happy.

The money keeps her fed. The call keeps her glad.

The last time you two talked — who called first?