A young boy asked his mom for the last $13 she had saved for food so he could start a business. A few months later, he took her back to their tiny, old trailer and handed her the keys to their new $2 million home.
Annie Byrne, a mother from Atlanta, believed in teaching her son, Simon, the value of hard work and determination. She knew this would help him grow into a responsible person.
“Who cares if my son and I live in a rusty old trailer now? One day, he will take me to a palace and make me its queen!” Annie, a widow who worked as a janitor and struggled to get by, often dreamed of a better life.
One day, a mother’s prayers were answered in the most unbelievable way when her son handed her the keys to a $2 million house. But she didn’t know what sacrifices he made to make her dream come true.
“Mom, when will we live in a nice house?” 13-year-old Simon asked his mother. “It’s getting cold, and it’s cramped inside.”
Simon’s mom, Annie, didn’t know how to reply. She had very little savings, and her salary barely covered food and school costs for her son.
“Very soon… we’ll move very soon,” she told Simon, holding back tears. “Now close your eyes and go to sleep.”
Annie couldn’t sleep, though. She knew “soon” might never come. That night, she sat by Simon, heartbroken, thinking their struggles would never end.
The next morning, Simon’s friends asked him to play, but he didn’t go. He couldn’t be happy knowing how much his mom was struggling. While walking alone, Simon saw a boy earning money at a lemonade stand.
“Wow!” Simon thought. He wanted to start a small business, but he had almost no money. He left disappointed, but then an idea hit him. He ran home, excited.
“Mom, can I have some money?” he asked. Annie was hesitant.
“Son, I only have $13 left. That’s for food until I get paid next week,” she said.
But Simon was determined. “Mom, please trust me. Just give me the $13. I promise you won’t regret it.”
Reluctantly, Annie gave him the money, curious about what he’d do with it.
Later, Simon returned with several packets in his hands. Annie asked what they were, but he didn’t answer and grabbed a shovel. She watched in disbelief as he dug up the yard around their trailer, planting seeds from the packets.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Simon smiled and said, “Mom, if we plant today, we’ll harvest tomorrow!”
At first, Annie didn’t understand. But over the next few weeks, Simon worked hard, watering and caring for the garden. Soon, the yard was filled with fresh herbs and plants.
Annie thought they’d use the produce for themselves, but Simon surprised her.
“Mom, we can’t eat this,” he said. “I’m selling it at a little stall I’m setting up. We’ll use the extra for ourselves.”
Simon’s fresh produce became popular. People loved his natural, chemical-free vegetables, and soon, everything he sold was gone quickly. As his business grew, Simon realized he needed more space to grow more crops. He expanded the garden and started growing fruits and flowers too.
As the money rolled in, Simon and Annie moved into a rented house. Annie even quit her janitor job to help Simon in the garden. Their stall grew, and soon the whole town knew about them.
But their success attracted the jealousy of a wealthy farmer named Alex, who couldn’t believe a young boy was doing so well. Curious, Alex visited Simon’s garden one day.
“How do you grow such healthy produce without chemicals?” Alex asked.
Simon replied, “People should eat food, not poison. We use natural methods to keep the plants safe.”
Impressed, Alex realized he had misjudged Simon. Instead of competing with him, Alex asked Simon to partner with him. Simon ran to ask his mother if he should accept the offer.
After thinking it over, Annie agreed. Simon balanced school and working on Alex’s farm while still tending to his little garden.
Their business took off. They started selling produce not just locally but even to neighboring states. Two years later, Simon saved enough money to build a new house on the same spot their trailer once stood. With Alex’s help, the house was finally built.
When Simon handed his mother the keys to their new house, Annie cried tears of joy. Her dream had come true.
“Simon, you gave up your childhood to make me happy,” she said, hugging him. “I love you.”
Simon smiled. “I can still play and have fun, but I couldn’t watch you struggle. I’ll always be your little boy!”
Though Simon was now successful, he never forgot the small garden that started it all. He kept growing the crops but never sold them again.
“We should enjoy the fruits of our hard work, Mom,” he said, laughing. “We’re going to eat this ourselves!”
Simon’s business continued to grow, and there were rumors
My Husband Went on Vacation..
I thought my husband would be there for me when my mom passed away, but instead, he chose a vacation to Hawaii over my grief. Devastated, I faced the funeral alone. But when he returned, he walked into a situation he never expected—a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget. I was at work when the doctor’s number flashed on my phone, and somehow, I knew what was coming. My heart sank even before I answered. Mom was gone. Just like that. One minute she was fighting a minor lung infection, and the next… nothing. My world stopped making sense.
I don’t remember much after that. One moment I was sitting in my cubicle, and the next I was home, fumbling with my keys, eyes blurred with tears. John’s car was in the driveway, another one of his “work-from-home” days, which usually meant ESPN muted in the background while he pretended to answer emails.“John?” My voice echoed through the house. “I need you.” He stepped into the kitchen, holding a coffee mug, looking mildly annoyed. “What’s wrong? You look terrible.” I tried to speak, but the words got tangled in my throat. I reached out to him, desperate for comfort. He sighed and gave me a quick, awkward pat on the back, like he was consoling a distant acquaintance. “My mom… she died, John. Mom’s gone.” His grip tightened for a moment. “Oh, wow. That’s… I’m sorry.” Then, just as quickly, he pulled away. “Do you want me to order takeout?
Maybe Thai?” I nodded, numb. The next day, reality hit hard. There was so much to handle—planning the funeral, notifying family, and dealing with a lifetime of memories. As I sat at the kitchen table, buried in lists, I remembered our planned vacation. “John, we’ll need to cancel Hawaii,” I said, looking up from my phone. “The funeral will probably be next week, and—” “Cancel?”
He lowered his newspaper, frowning. “Edith, those tickets were non-refundable. We’d lose a lot of money. Besides, I’ve already booked my golf games.” I stared at him, stunned. “John, my mother just died.” He folded the newspaper with the kind of precision that told me he was more irritated than concerned. “I get that you’re upset, but funerals are for family. I’m just your husband—your cousins won’t even notice I’m not there. You can handle things here, and you know I’m not great with emotional stuff.” It felt like I’d been punched in the gut. “Just my husband?” “You know what I mean,” he muttered, avoiding my gaze and adjusting his tie. “Besides, someone should use those tickets. You can text me if you need anything.” I felt like I was seeing him clearly for the first time in 15 years of marriage. The week that followed was a blur. John occasionally offered a stiff pat on the shoulder or suggested I watch a comedy to lift my mood. But when the day of the funeral came, he was on a plane to Hawaii, posting Instagram stories of sunsets and cocktails. “#LivingMyBestLife,” one caption read. Meanwhile, I buried my mother alone on a rainy Thursday. That night, sitting in an empty house, surrounded by untouched sympathy casseroles, something snapped inside me. I had spent years making excuses for John’s emotional absence. “He’s just not a feelings person,” I would say. “He shows his love in other ways.” But I was done pretending.I called my friend Sarah, a realtor. “Can you list the house for me? Oh, and include John’s Porsche in the deal.” “His Porsche? Eddie, he’ll lose it!” “That’s the point.” The next morning, “potential buyers” started showing up. I sat in the kitchen, sipping coffee, watching as they circled John’s beloved car. When his Uber finally pulled into the driveway, I couldn’t help but smile. It was showtime. John stormed in, face flushed. “Edith, what the hell? People are asking about my car!” “Oh, that. I’m selling the house. The Porsche is a great bonus, don’t you think?”He sputtered, pulling out his phone. “This is insane! I’ll call Sarah right now!” “Go ahead,” I said sweetly. “Maybe you can tell her about your fabulous vacation. How was the beach?” Realization slowly dawned across his face. “This… is this some kind of payback? Did I do something wrong?” I stood, letting my anger finally surface. “You abandoned me when I needed you most. I’m just doing what you do: looking out for myself. After all, I’m just your wife, right?” John spent the next hour frantically trying to shoo away buyers, while begging me to reconsider. By the time Sarah texted that her friends had run out of patience, I let him off the hook—sort of. “Fine. I won’t sell the house or the car.” I paused. “This time.” He sagged with relief. “Thank you, Edith. I—” I held up my hand. “But things are going to change. I needed my husband, and you weren’t there. You’re going to start acting like a partner, or next time, the For Sale sign will be real.” He looked ashamed, finally understanding the gravity of his actions. “What can I do to make this right?” “You can start by showing up. Be a partner, not a roommate. I lost my mother, John. That kind of grief isn’t something you can fix with a vacation or a fancy dinner.” He nodded. “I don’t know how to be the man you need, but I love you, and I want to try.” It’s not perfect now. John still struggles with emotions, but he’s going to therapy, and last week, for the first time, he asked me how I was feeling about Mom. He listened while I talked about how much I missed her calls and how I sometimes still reach for the phone, only to remember she’s not there. He even opened up a little about his own feelings. It’s progress. Baby steps. I often wonder what Mom would say about all this. I can almost hear her chuckling, shaking her head. “That’s my girl,” she’d say. “Never let them see you sweat. Just show them the ‘For Sale’ sign instead.” Because if there’s one thing she taught me, it’s that strength comes in many forms. Sometimes it’s pushing through the pain, and sometimes it’s knowing when to push back.
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