When new neighbors parked their truck on Edna’s beautiful lawn, they thought the elderly widow would just accept it. But Edna, protective of the home she built with her late husband, Harold, was not going to let them take over easily.
Edna had lived in her house for over fifty years, filled with memories of her life with Harold. He had planted the trees and tended to the garden, making their home a cherished place. They raised their two children there, watched them grow, and now, with only memories left, Edna found comfort in every blade of grass. Her son, Tom, often visited, helping with the yard work. He told her she shouldn’t worry about it, but Edna never complained; she didn’t want to burden him.
The house had been quiet since Harold passed, but it was still her sanctuary. That changed when a lively young couple moved in next door. At first, Edna didn’t mind, but everything shifted when she saw their shiny pickup truck parked right on her lawn one morning. Her heart sank as deep tire marks ruined her well-kept grass.
Determined, Edna grabbed her cane and walked outside. The neighbor’s wife, with an arrogant attitude, brushed off her concerns. When Edna insisted they move the truck, the woman dismissed her, saying it didn’t matter since Edna didn’t own a car.
Frustrated but trying to remain polite, Edna returned inside, hoping it would be a one-time incident. But the next day, the truck was back, and this time, the husband answered the door. He grumbled about parking wherever he wanted since Edna lived alone. Hurt and angry, Edna insisted it was her property, but he slammed the door in her face.
That night, Edna resolved to protect her lawn, just as Harold would have wanted. While searching through the garage, she discovered an old canister filled with small, sharp tacks, Harold’s leftover project supplies. An idea formed: if she scattered the tacks on her lawn, the neighbors would be in for a surprise.
Under the cover of darkness, Edna quietly sprinkled the tacks where the truck usually parked, feeling a mix of nerves and determination. The next morning, she heard the unmistakable sound of hissing tires. Peeking out the window, she saw the neighbor staring at his flat tires in disbelief. A smile crept across Edna’s face; her plan had worked.
Soon, there was a furious knock on her door. The angry neighbor accused her of ruining his truck. Edna calmly explained that she had asked him to stop parking on her lawn and that she had every right to protect her property. The neighbor continued to shout threats, but Edna had already called the police. As she stood her ground, the sound of sirens grew closer.
Two officers arrived quickly, and the angry neighbor pointed at Edna, claiming she was responsible. The officer asked Edna for her side of the story, and she explained how she had asked them to stop parking on her lawn. After inspecting the tire marks and tacks, the officer informed the neighbor he was trespassing and would be charged for harassment and property damage.
Defeated, the neighbor slumped away, leaving Edna relieved and victorious. The neighbors kept their distance after that, and the truck never returned to her lawn. While the grass would take time to heal, Edna felt a sense of pride in handling the situation herself.
That afternoon, as she sat on her porch, sipping tea in the soft glow of the setting sun, Edna felt at peace. She had stood up for her home, for her memories with Harold, and it filled her with a deep sense of satisfaction.
My Husband Insisted on Homeschooling Our Daughter — I Gasped When I Found Out Why
When Mia’s husband, Ben, suddenly starts talking about homeschooling their six-year-old daughter, Lily, she’s surprised. Months earlier, they had been talking about sending the little girl to private school. So, what changed? Mia finds out when she overhears a conversation between Ben and Lily…
This all started a few months ago at a dinner party. My husband, Ben, and I were sitting with a few friends when, out of the blue, he brought up the idea of homeschooling our daughter, Lily.
An aerial view of people at a dinner party | Source: Midjourney
“It’s the system, you know? It’s too rigid, too focused on tests,” Ben said, leaning forward in his seat like he had discovered the secret to the universe.
“Kids need to be free to explore their creativity. I don’t want Lily’s imagination boxed in. She needs to feel things between her fingers and experience life,” he continued.
Ben reached forward to help himself to the bowl of mashed potatoes.
A casserole of mashed potatoes | Source: Midjourney
Everyone at the table nodded, murmuring in agreement.
“Honestly, that’s so true,” our friend Sarah chimed in as she sipped her wine. “Schools just kill creativity. I wish I had done something different with my kids. Last year, Jasmine wanted to show off her creativity through her uniform, but they didn’t accept it at school. She got a suspension warning.”
I remember glancing at Ben, completely surprised at how passionately he was speaking. He had never once mentioned anything about homeschooling before. In fact, he had been talking about us getting our six-year-old into private school.
A little girl in her school uniform | Source: Midjourney
But here he was, talking about homeschooling like he’d been thinking about it for years.
“We could teach her ourselves, Mia,” Ben continued, glancing over at me with a smile. “Think about it, love. No strict schedules, no standardized tests. She could learn at her own pace.”
I nodded, trying to process everything.
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
“Yeah, I mean, it does sound good,” I agreed. “But we need to explore all options about it first.”
I was hesitant. But I was also unsure of why I felt a slight unease creep up on me. Although when Ben spoke so passionately, it was hard not to get swept up in the dream of it all.
After that night, Ben kept bringing it up. At home, over dinner, in passing conversations, he’d make little comments all the time.
A concerned woman | Source: Midjourney
“Lily would be so much happier if she wasn’t stuck in a classroom all day.”
“We could help her learn things that matter, Mia, not just what’s on some test.”
Eventually, I started to believe that he might be right.
Before I knew it, we had decided to pull Lily out of her school and start with the new routine of homeschooling. Ben took charge of everything.
A little girl using a computer | Source: Midjourney
“Like the gifts we talked about? You’ll deliver them, right?”
He had always been more involved with her school meetings, so I trusted him completely. And look, at first, everything seemed to be working. Ben would sit with Lily during “school hours,” and he’d proudly show me the projects they’d worked on when I got home from work.
“I’m glad she’s happy,” I told Ben one evening when I was loading the dishwasher.
A woman loading a dishwasher | Source: Midjourney
“She’s more than happy, Mia,” he said with a smile. “She’s thriving. Look at this! She made a solar system model all on her own.”
But then one day, I came home early from work, eager to show Lily the new set of watercolor paint I had gotten for her. I walked in quietly, not wanting to disturb whatever lesson she and Ben were doing.
And that’s when I heard Lily crying.
A concerned woman | Source: Midjourney
“But Dad, I miss my friends!” Lily sobbed. “They probably think I don’t like them anymore. I’m sure they think we’re fighting! They’ll be so mad at me for not going to school…”
I crept closer to the dining room, which had become the classroom. And I heard Ben’s voice, low and soothing.
“Lily-girl,” he said. “I told you, we can send them little gifts, okay? They won’t be mad at you.”
An upset little man | Source: Midjourney
Lily sniffled, but her tone lifted a little.
“Like the gifts we talked about? You’ll deliver them, right?” she said.
Deliver gifts? What on earth was my child talking about?
“Yes, darling,” he said.
A frowning woman | Source: Midjourney
“Like when you let me come with you when Mommy had to work? You’re going to deliver my friends’ gifts just like when you bring packages to people, right?”
I froze. I tried to piece the information together before storming in and demanding answers.
Ben wasn’t homeschooling Lily out of some grand educational philosophy that he had been talking about endlessly.
An upset little girl | Source: Midjourney
Instead, my husband was delivering packages. All those days that I thought they were doing lessons… what had really been happening under my roof?
“Get your answers, Mia,” I muttered as I walked into the dining room.
Ben’s face turned white when he saw me.
A close up of a shocked man | Source: Midjourney
“Care to explain what on earth Lily is talking about?” I asked.
My chest felt tight, like I was just holding it all together before some horrible news came out.
Ben let out a long breath, running his hands through his hair.
“Honey, why don’t you go play on the swing or watch some TV?” Ben told her.
We waited until Lily was happily running outside to the swing before Ben said another word.
A little girl sitting on a swing | Source: Midjourney
“I… I lost my job, okay? Months ago. I didn’t know how to tell you, Mia.”
I blinked, trying to process his words.
“I didn’t want you to think I was a failure.”
“You lost your job? Then what on earth have you been doing all day?”
“The homeschooling. It wasn’t about Lily’s education. It was because we couldn’t afford the tuition anymore. And I know that a few months ago I wanted her to go to private school, but I couldn’t even afford her public school fees.”
A close up of an upset man | Source: Midjourney
Ben paused, holding his head.
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to retaliate.
“I’ve been delivering packages. It’s not stable, but it’s for a few hours a day. I take Lily with me in between her homeschooling. I know you think that I’ve been working in the study and then teaching Lily, too…”
A man holding two boxes | Source: Midjourney
“You’ve been delivering packages? Really? This whole time?” I asked, stunned. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“I didn’t want you to think that I was a failure,” Ben said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know how to fix this situation. But you know how stressful my job was toward the end. Those hours killed me. I thought that maybe if I could just keep things together for a little while longer…”
A frowning woman | Source: Midjourney
I shook my head, trying to wrap my mind around everything. I wanted to be angry.
I wanted to shout at my husband, not because he lost his job, but because he didn’t want to tell me about it. I understood the pressure of losing your job suddenly and then having to put yourself back together.
When I was pregnant with Lily, I lost my job because they couldn’t afford to keep paying me while I was on maternity leave.
A pregnant woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
But Ben carried us right up until Lily was three years old.
I shook my head now, trying to shake some of my thoughts. I felt… sad. Sad that Ben had felt like he had to hide this from me.
“Ben, you didn’t have to do this alone,” I said, reaching toward him.
He smiled at me sadly.
A close up of a woman | Source: Midjourney
We put Lily back into school the next week using our savings. She was overjoyed to see her friends, and the guilt Ben had been carrying around began to lift when he saw her running toward them at the school gate.
As for Ben, he found another job as a grocery store manager. It wasn’t his dream job, but it was honest work that came with medical benefits. And honestly, I think it was just the fact that he was earning properly again that made the biggest difference to him.
A man standing in a grocery store | Source: Midjourney
There was a lightness back in our home that hadn’t been there in a long time. A sense that we were moving forward, together.
What would you have done?
A smiling couple with their daughter | Source: Midjourney
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
Am I Wrong for “Hiding” My MIL’s Birthday Present to My Husband after Finding Out What Was Inside?
Tired of allowing her cold and callous mother-in-law to ruin her husband’s birthday, Lila hides Carol’s birthday present from Bill to save him the hurt and disappointment that usually came with his mother’s gifts. But when Lila’s secret comes out, a series of events unfolds.
I could tell my husband, Bill, was nervous. His birthday was coming up, and every year, his mom’s gift felt like a slap in the face.
Bill sat on our worn-out couch, his shoulders tense.
A man sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
“Do you think she’ll actually care this time?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
I sighed, placing my hand on his. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say. I knew that I needed to reassure him, but my husband’s relationship with his mother was complicated.
“Maybe,” I said. “But remember, we’re celebrating your birthday, not hers. We’ll have a great time, no matter what, darling.”
A couple holding hands | Source: Midjourney
Bill smiled at me, but it didn’t reach his eyes. I knew how much he wanted to feel loved and appreciated by Carol, but she always failed to show him that. It wasn’t just about the gifts. It was about the feeling.
Bill had told me the story a long time ago. He was his mother’s son from her first marriage, and their relationship was strong, but things took a turn when Carol met her second husband, Adam.
It became even worse when Bill’s younger brothers were born. Suddenly, Carol only had eyes for Adam and their sons, making it clear to Bill that he was no longer a priority in her life.
A mother and her sons | Source: Midjourney
“Okay,” he said. “This year will be different.”
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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