A few days earlier…
“Mommy,” said Eve sadly. “Can you get me a doll?”
“Honey,” Pauline gently replied. “You know we’re on a tight budget this month. Mommy will buy you one next month. That’s a promise.”
“But mommy…” Eve’s voice began to crack. “My birthday is in two days. Did you forget about it?”
“Oh, no, no, sweetheart! Not at all!” Pauline said, but she had actually forgotten and felt terrible about it.
“Are you still not going to get me a doll? I don’t have any friends, mommy. Nobody wants to be friends with me because we are poor. That doll can be my best friend…”
“Oh honey,” Pauline hugged Eve. “I will get you the doll. Promise. Don’t be sad, ok?”
Pauline knew the kids at Eve’s school didn’t treat her well because she wasn’t as rich as them, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. Children can be cruel at times.
Present day…
Pauline was delighted after buying the doll. She couldn’t wait to give it to Eve and see her beautiful smile. The doll was one of those vintage kinds, holding a tiny baby in her arms.
“Oh, Eve will be so happy!” Pauline thought on her way back home.
And Eve was. The little girl’s joy knew no bounds when Pauline showed her the doll on her birthday.
Sometimes, the cause of someone’s smile is the source of another person’s grief.
“Ta-da! Mommy got the doll for Evie!” Pauline exclaimed, holding the doll in her hands. “Can mommy have a kiss for that?”
“It’s so pretty! Thank you, mommy!” Eve chirped as she kissed Pauline on the cheek.
As Pauline handed over the doll to Eve, she suddenly heard a strange crackling sound.
“What was that?” Pauline wondered.
She shook the doll, holding it close to her ears, and heard the crackling again.
“Mommy! Give it here! I wanna hold my doll! Please! Please!” Eve said, excited to play with it.
“One second, honey. I think there’s something in here…”
It was then that Pauline examined the doll and found a secret pocket sewn into the doll’s outfit. She undid the loose threads around it, and a note fell from it.
Eve quickly picked it up and said, “Mommy, it says, ‘Happy Birthday, Mommy.’ It’s not your birthday! It’s my birthday! This is so silly!”
When Pauline read the note, she noticed the message seemed like it was scribbled by a child. At that point, the thought of the woman selling the doll flashed through Pauline’s mind.
The next day, she returned to the flea market with the doll, and luckily, the woman’s stall was still there.
“Oh, I’m glad I found you here!” Pauline said. “I bought this doll yesterday, and I found a note inside…”
When the woman, Miriam, saw the note, her eyes welled up. “My daughter got this doll for me,” she said quietly. “She passed away two days before my birthday…My husband and I, oh, I’m sorry…” The woman covered her face as her tears started to flow.
“I’m really sorry for your loss,” Pauline said apologetically. “I had no idea. I know I can’t take away your pain, but if it helps, I can give you a hug.”
“Oh, thank you…” Miriam said. Pauline gave her a warm hug, after which Miriam revealed her sad story, which brought tears to Pauline’s eyes.
“My little daughter was diagnosed with cancer,” Miriam said. “We needed money for her chemotherapy. My husband and I work at a factory. We didn’t have enough money to cover her hospital bills, so we set up a stall here to sell our old furniture and things we didn’t need.”
“But we couldn’t save our daughter…She—she left us too soon. We’re selling her toys because every time I look at them, it just makes me sad.”
“One night, when I held my baby girl’s hand, she asked me to be happy. She had said, ‘Mumma, when I’m gone, please remember me with a smile.’ So I decided to sell the toys. She had bought that doll, saying it would remind me of her. I’m sorry I feel like I’m oversharing with you, but my heart feels really relieved today. Thank you for listening to me.”
As Miriam finished, she broke down into tears again. Pauline consoled her, and the two women talked about their lives for a while. Pauline told her how she’d been raising Eve by herself and invited her over to spend time with them.
“Eve will love to meet you,” she said. “And thank you so much for the doll. It made my daughter’s day. I’m sure your daughter is looking at you and smiling. Thank you again,” she added before she left.
A few days later, Miriam visited Eve and Pauline at the trailer where they lived.
“This is in appreciation of your kind heart and patience in listening to me that day. I hope this helps you and Eve,” Miriam said, handing Pauline an envelope.
When Pauline opened it, she found a couple of dollar bills inside. $3000 in total. “Oh, Miriam, we can’t take this. This is a lot. No, no, this doesn’t feel right…”
“You can take it, Pauline,” Miriam insisted. “A mother’s heart knows how much it hurts when you can’t do enough for your child. We made this by selling the toys. Please keep it. If not for my sake, please keep it for Eve’s sake.”
Pauline cried. “Oh, Miriam, thank you. This will help us a lot. Thanks.”
From then on, Miriam and Pauline became friends, and Miriam loved and spoiled Eve too much. But the best part was that Pauline and Eve’s company helped Miriam heal and move on from her loss.
What can we learn from this story?
Help someone in need, and you’ll never regret it. Pauline and Miriam helped each other in whatever way they could. That helped Miriam overcome her grief, and Pauline and Eve found someone who cherished their company.
Sometimes, the cause of someone’s smile is the source of another person’s grief. Sadly, the doll which made Eve happy on her birthday was a reminder of Miriam’s sad past.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
My Neighbor Tried to Ruin My Garden with an HOA Complaint—Here’s What Backfired
My lovely granddaughter gave me a cute garden gnome to make my yard more cheerful. But my nosy neighbor, who can’t stand a little fun, reported me to the HOA for “ruining” the look of the neighborhood. She thought she had won. Oh, how wrong she was!
Hello there! Come on in and take a seat. This old lady has a story that will make you laugh and maybe teach you something, too. Now, I know you might be thinking, “Oh no, not another story about lost love or cheating husbands.” But hold on! This story isn’t about my dear Arnold. Bless his heart; he’s probably up in heaven, flirting with his old crushes!
No, this story is about something that could happen to anyone.
So listen closely because Grandma Peggy is ready to share how a little garden gnome stirred up a lot of trouble in our quiet neighborhood.
But before we get into the details, let me describe where I live. Picture a cozy suburban paradise, where the streets are lined with maple trees and the lawns are greener than a leprechaun’s vest.
It’s the kind of place where everyone knows each other, and the biggest excitement is usually the latest gossip at Mabel’s Bakery.
Oh, Mabel’s Bakery! That’s where the real fun takes place.
Every morning, you’ll find a group of us old-timers, all nearing 80, sipping coffee and enjoying Mabel’s famous cinnamon rolls and croissants. The smell of fresh bread and the sound of laughter spill out onto the sidewalk, drawing people in like moths to a flame.
“Did you hear about Mr. Bill’s new toupee?” Gladys would whisper, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Land sakes, it looks like a squirrel took up residence on his head!” Mildred would reply, and we’d all laugh like a bunch of hens.
It’s a peaceful life filled with the simple joys of tending to my garden, sharing recipes, and, yes, the occasional bit of harmless gossip. Then one day, my granddaughter, sweet little Jessie, gifted me the cutest garden gnome I’d ever seen.
This little fella had a mischievous grin that could light up a room and a tiny watering can in his chubby ceramic hands.
“Gran,” Jessie said, her eyes sparkling, “I thought he’d be perfect for your garden. He looks just like you when you’re up to no good!”
I couldn’t argue with that. So, I found him a prime spot right next to my prized birdbath.
Little did I know, I’d just planted the seed for the biggest fuss our neighborhood had seen since Mr. Bill’s toupee blew off at the Fourth of July picnic.
“Oh, Peggy,” I muttered to myself as I stepped back to admire my handiwork, “you’ve outdone yourself this time.”
I had no idea how right I was.
Now, before we dive into the thick of it, let me introduce you to the thorn in my side—my neighbor, Carol, who’s also in her late 70s. Picture a woman who’s never met a rule she didn’t like or a bit of joy she couldn’t squash. That’s Carol for you.
She moved in two years ago, but you’d think she’d been appointed Queen of the cul-de-sac the way she carries on. Always peering over fences, measuring grass height with a ruler, and shooing kids away for no reason.
I swear, that woman’s got more opinions than a politician at a debate.
One afternoon, I was out tending to my petunias when I heard the telltale clip-clop of Carol’s shoes on the sidewalk. I braced myself for another lecture on the “proper way” to trim hedges.
“Well, hello there, Carol,” I called out, plastering on my sweetest smile. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”
Carol’s eyes narrowed as she surveyed my garden. “Peggy,” she said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness, “what on earth is that thing by your birdbath?”
I followed her gaze to my new gnome. “Oh, that’s just a little gift from my granddaughter. Isn’t he a darling?”
Carol’s nose wrinkled like she’d smelled something foul.
“It’s certainly unique. But are you sure it’s allowed? You know how particular our HOA is about maintaining the neighborhood’s aesthetic.”
My smile faltered. “Now, Carol, I’ve lived here for nigh on 40 years. I think I know what’s allowed and what isn’t.”
She raised an eyebrow. “If you say so, Peggy. I just wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble.”
As she clip-clopped away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that TROUBLE was exactly what she had in mind.
A week later, I found out just how right I was. There, stuffed in my mailbox like a dirty secret, was a letter from the HOA.
My hands shook as I tore it open, and let me tell you, what I read made my blood boil hotter than a pot of Arnold’s famous five-alarm chili. The letter said that my gnome was against the neighborhood rules and I had to remove it immediately.
“Violation notice?” I sputtered, reading aloud. “Garden ornament not in compliance with neighborhood aesthetic guidelines? Why, I oughta…”
I didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out who was behind this. Carol’s smug face popped into my mind, and I could almost hear her nasally voice: “I told you so, Peggy!”
Now, some folks might’ve caved and removed the gnome, but not this old bird. No sir, I’ve got more fight than a cat in a bathtub.
I marched inside, pulled out my reading glasses, and dug up that HOA rulebook. If Carol wanted to play by the rules, then by golly, we’d play by ALL the rules.
I flipped through the pages until I found the section on garden decor. It stated that residents could have one decorative item in their front yard, as long as it didn’t exceed three feet in height. Well, my gnome was only two feet tall! So I was in the clear!
Feeling triumphant, I decided to send a response to the HOA. I crafted a letter detailing my findings and politely requested that they reconsider their stance on my delightful gnome. With a triumphant grin, I dropped the letter in the mail and waited.
As I flipped through page after mind-numbing page, a plan started forming. A devious, delicious plan that would teach Carol a lesson she wouldn’t soon forget.
“Oh, Carol,” I chuckled, “you’ve really stepped in it this time!”
For the next few hours, I was busier than a one-armed paper hanger. I pored over that HOA rulebook like it was the last novel on Earth. And boy, did I strike gold.
Turns out, our dear Carol wasn’t as perfect as she thought. Her pristine white fence? An inch too tall. That fancy mailbox she was so proud of? Wrong shade of beige. And don’t even get me started on her wind chimes… those things were about as welcome as a skunk at a garden party according to the noise ordinance.
With all this juicy information, I could hardly contain my glee. I carefully documented each of her violations and decided to send a little note to the HOA about them.
After all, if Carol wanted to poke her nose into my garden gnome business, I was more than happy to return the favor. “Let’s see how she likes it when the tables are turned!” I said to myself, giggling as I sealed the envelope and sent it off.
That night, I made myself a cup of chamomile tea and settled in for some well-deserved relaxation, eagerly anticipating the chaos that would unfold.
The next morning, I was up with the birds, perched by my window with a cup of coffee and my binoculars. At precisely 7:15 a.m., Carol’s front door opened.
What happened next was better than any TV show I’d ever seen. Carol stepped out, took one look at her lawn, and FROZE. Her mouth hung open. Then, she let out a screech that could’ve woken the dead.
“What in the name of all that’s holy?!” she shrieked, her voice hitting a pitch that made dogs howl three blocks away.
I nearly spilled my coffee laughing. “Oh, Carol, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
It turned out that while I was busy gathering evidence against her, my friends from the neighborhood had come together to have a little fun of their own. They had all pitched in to cover Carol’s yard with colorful inflatable lawn decorations. Flamingos, unicorns, and even a giant inflatable Santa were now crowding her once-pristine lawn, turning it into a carnival of chaos.
As Carol stood there, mouth agape, I could barely contain my glee. She stomped around her yard, her indignation growing with each inflatable she spotted. I could practically hear her thoughts racing: “This is unacceptable! How could this happen?!”
Every squeal of outrage made me chuckle harder. “That’s right, Carol. Welcome to my world!” I whispered to myself, feeling like I had pulled off the greatest prank of all time.
I knew I had to see her reaction up close, so I grabbed my trusty hat and headed over to “help” her sort out her lawn situation. After all, I was a good neighbor, right?
As I toddled off, leaving Carol sputtering in my wake, I couldn’t help but feel a little proud. Some people never learn, but sometimes, a garden gnome can teach an epic lesson.
When I arrived at Carol’s yard, I could see her pacing back and forth, hands on her hips, looking more flustered than a cat at a dog show. “What am I going to do about this mess?” she muttered to herself, completely ignoring my cheerful greeting.
“Oh, Carol, dear!” I called out, trying to keep a straight face. “Need a hand with all these delightful decorations?”
She shot me a glare that could have melted ice. “This is not funny, Peggy!”
“Of course it is! Look at how festive it is now!” I giggled, trying to lighten her mood. I offered to help her deflate the colorful invaders, but secretly, I was loving every moment of this small victory.
As the day went on, we worked side by side, and I could see her beginning to calm down, despite her initial outrage. “Maybe it’s not so bad,” she finally admitted, a hint of a smile breaking through her stern facade.
And my little gnome? He’s still there by the birdbath, grinning away. Only now, I swear his smile looks just a little bit wider! It seems he’s not just a decoration anymore; he’s become a symbol of our neighborhood’s spirit, reminding us all to embrace a little fun and laughter, even in the face of a neighbor’s strict rules.
As I looked back at my garden, I felt a warmth in my heart, knowing that sometimes, a touch of whimsy can go a long way in softening even the hardest of hearts. And who knows? Maybe Carol will be inspired to add a little joy to her own yard next time!
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