The music I played on my piano was my last link to my late husband. But cruel neighbors shattered that joy with a hurtful message on my wall. When my granddaughter found out, she made things right, leaving those entitled neighbors scratching their heads.
“Oh, Jerry, did you love it today, darling?” I asked softly, the last notes of “Clair de Lune” filling my cozy living room as my fingers lifted from the ivory piano keys. My eyes fixed on the framed photo of my late husband, Jerry. His kind eyes seemed to twinkle back at me, just as they had for over fifty years of our marriage…
Willie, my tabby cat, stretched lazily near my feet, purring contentedly. I reached down to scratch behind his ears, feeling the familiar ache in my chest as I carefully lifted Jerry’s photo.
“I miss you so much, darling. It’s been five years, but sometimes… sometimes it feels like yesterday.”
Pressing a gentle kiss to the cool glass, I whispered, “Time for dinner, my love. I’ll play your favorite before bed, okay? ‘Moon River,’ just like always.”
As I set the frame back down, I could almost hear Jerry’s warm chuckle. “You spoil me, Bessie,” he’d say, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
I shuffled towards the kitchen, pausing to look back at the piano, my constant companion these past 72 years.
“What would I do without you?” I murmured, running my hand along its polished surface.
That night, as I lay in bed, I whispered into the darkness, “Goodnight, Jerry. I’ll see you in my dreams.”
The next morning, I was lost in Chopin’s “Nocturne in E-flat major” when a sharp rap on my window startled me. My fingers stumbled, the music cutting off abruptly.
A red-faced man glared at me through the glass. He was my new neighbor.
“Hey, lady!” he shouted, his voice muffled. “Cut out that racket! You’re keeping the whole neighborhood awake with your pathetic plinking!”
I stared at him, shocked. “I… I’m so sorry,” I stammered, even as a small voice in my head protested. It was barely 11 a.m., and none of my other neighbors had ever complained before.
The man stomped away, leaving me trembling. I closed the lid of the piano, my sanctuary suddenly feeling tainted.
The next day, I closed all the windows before sitting down to play. The music felt muffled and constrained, but I hoped it would keep the peace.
I was barely ten minutes into Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” when my doorbell rang insistently. With a heavy heart, I answered it.
A woman with pinched features glared at me. “Listen here, old lady,” she spat. “The grave’s calling, and you’re still banging on that piano? Cut the noise, or I’ll report you to the HOA!”
It was only then that I understood she was my new neighbor’s wife.
I felt like I’d been slapped. “I… I closed all the windows,” I said weakly.
“Well, it’s not enough!” she snapped, turning on her heel. “Quit making noise with your stupid piano!”
I slumped against the door frame, tears welling in my eyes. “Oh, Jerry,” I whispered. “What do I do?”
I could almost hear his voice, gentle but firm. “You play, Bessie. You play your heart out. Don’t stop… for anyone.”
But as I sat at the piano, my fingers hovering over the keys, I couldn’t bring myself to press down.
Days passed, and I tried everything. I taped cardboard over the windows, played only in short bursts, even considered moving the piano to the basement where it might not be heard.
But nothing seemed to satisfy my new neighbors, the Grinches, as I’d started calling them in my head.
The thought of being separated from my cherished instrument, even by a flight of stairs, made my heart ache. This piano wasn’t just an object; it was an extension of my soul, a living connection to Jerry and our life together.
Forgetting about those bothersome neighbors for a moment, I lost myself in the music as I played the piano that night.
The next morning, I stepped outside to tend to my small herb garden. The sight that greeted me stopped me cold.
The cruel words “SHUT UP!” were spray-painted across the wall in angry red letters.
I sank to my knees and wept. “Jerry, I can’t do this anymore.”
That day, for the first time in decades, I didn’t touch my piano.
As night fell, I sat in Jerry’s armchair, clutching his photo. “I’m so sorry, my love. I just don’t have the strength to fight anymore.”
The shrill ring of the telephone startled me from my thoughts. I fumbled for the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Mom? It’s me,” my son Jacob’s warm voice filled the line. “How are you doing?”
I swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “Oh, I’m fine, sweetie. Just a quiet day at home.”
There was a pause. “Mom, you don’t sound fine. Is everything alright?”
I sighed, debating whether to burden him with my troubles. “It’s nothing, really. Just… some issues with the new neighbors.”
“Issues? What kind of issues?”
I found myself spilling everything… the complaints, the threats, the vandalism.
“I don’t know what to do anymore, honey. I feel so… lost.”
“Oh, Mom, why didn’t you tell me sooner? We could have helped.”
“I didn’t want to worry you. You have your own life, your own problems.”
“Mom, you’re never a burden. Never. Your music has brought joy to so many people over the years. Remember all those Christmas parties? The school recitals you played for? You’re not a nuisance… you’re a treasure.”
“Listen, I’m going to call Melissa. She’s closer. Maybe she can come check on you. And we’ll figure this out together, okay?” Jacob finished.
As I hung up the phone, I felt a small flicker of hope. Maybe I wasn’t alone in this after all.
Days crawled by. My piano sat untouched, gathering dust. I felt like a part of me was withering away.
One evening, a loud knock startled me from my melancholy. I opened the door to find my granddaughter Melissa standing there, her face glowing with a warm smile.
“Surprise, Nana!” she exclaimed, enveloping me in a tight hug.
As she pulled back, her eyes widened in horror. “Nana, who did this to your wall?”
I burst into tears, the whole story spilling out between sobs. Melissa’s expression darkened with each word.
“Oh, Nana,” she said softly, leading me to the couch. “How dare they do this to you? Did you report them?”
“I didn’t want to make a fuss. It’s just… it’s been so hard, sweetie. That piano, it’s all I have left of your grandpa.”
Melissa’s eyes filled with tears. “I know, Nana. We’ll fix this, I promise.”
“How?” I asked, feeling hopeless. “They hate my music. They hate me.”
Melissa took my hands in hers, her grip firm and reassuring. “They can shove their hatred up their butts, Nana. They don’t even know you. These entitled brats are about to learn what happens when you mess with the wrong pianist!”
The next day, Melissa was a whirlwind of activity. She made calls, ordered some supplies, and even enlisted the help of some neighbors I’d known for years.
“Nana, we’re going to teach those Grinches a lesson about respect.”
That evening, Melissa set up small speakers around the Grinches’ property, carefully hidden in the boxwood bushes under their windows.
When their car pulled into the driveway, she winked at me. “Show time, Nana!”
As soon as the Grinches disappeared inside, soft piano music began to play from the hidden speakers, barely audible at first. They rushed out, looking confused. Then suddenly, the music changed to a medley of barking dogs and car alarms.
I couldn’t help but giggle as I watched them run around, trying to find the source of the noise.
Melissa grinned triumphantly. “And now, for the grand finale,” she said, pressing a red button on a remote control-like device.
The air was filled with the most ridiculous assortment of fart sounds I’d ever heard. I doubled over with laughter, tears streaming down my face.
“Melissa!” I gasped between giggles. “You’re terrible!”
She hugged me tight. “Nobody messes with my Nana. Besides, a little harmless payback never hurt anyone.”
As we watched the Grinches frantically searching their yard, I was pleased. “Thank you, sweetheart,” I said softly. “For reminding me to stand up for myself.”
The next morning, a crew arrived at my house. To my amazement, they began converting my piano room into a state-of-the-art soundproof studio.
“Now you can play whenever you want, Nana,” Melissa said, squeezing my hand. “No one will ever tell you to stop again.”
As the workers finished up, I sat down at my newly polished piano. My fingers trembled as they touched the keys, but as soon as I began to play, it was like coming home.
The familiar strains of “Moon River” filled the air, and I closed my eyes, feeling Jerry’s presence all around me.
“That’s my girl,” I could almost hear him say. “Play on, Bessie. Play on.”
Melissa danced around the room, a glass of wine in hand. “You rock, Nana!” she cheered. “Grandpa would be so proud.”
As the last notes faded away, I turned to her with tears in my eyes. “Thank you, sweetheart. You’ve given me back my voice.”
“No, Nana,” Melissa said, kneeling beside me. “You’ve always had your voice. I just helped you remember how to use it.”
All too soon, it was time for Melissa to leave. As we stood in the driveway, waiting for her taxi, she handed me the remote control-like device.
“Just in case those Grinches act up again,” she winked. “One press, and it’s fart city. But I don’t think you’ll need it. The whole neighborhood’s got your back now, Nana!”
I hugged her tightly. “I love you so much, Melissa. Thank you for everything.”
“I love you too, Nana. Promise me you’ll keep playing, no matter what anyone says.”
“I promise,” I said, my voice strong and sure.
As I watched the taxi disappear down the street, my phone buzzed. It was a text from my son: “How are you doing, Mom? Melissa told me everything. I’m so proud of you. Love you. ”
I smiled, tears pricking my eyes as I typed back: “I’m doing better than I have in weeks. Thank you for being there for me. I love you too. ”
Turning back to my house, I could have sworn I saw Jerry standing near the piano, arms wide open, beckoning me to play.
I wiped away a stray tear of joy and walked inside, closing the door behind me. The piano was waiting, and this time, nothing would stop me from playing.
As my fingers touched the keys, I felt whole again. The music swelled, filling every corner of my home and my heart. And somewhere, I knew Jerry was listening, smiling, and dancing along.
“This one’s for you, my love,” I whispered, as the melody of our favorite song carried me away. “And for our family, who never gave up on me!”
The notes of “Moon River” floated through the air. As I played, I felt stronger than ever, surrounded by the love of those who mattered most, both here and beyond.
Man Hears His Dog Barking from Afar, Finds It Sitting near an Abandoned Baby – Story of the Day
Jack checked on his dog Ralph who kept barking on the street, only to discover an abandoned baby with him. The baby turns out to be a very special girl who would change Jack’s life forever.
Despite being a wealthy man, Jack was known as one of the kindest and most generous people in town. He could have had it all until three months ago when he discovered his wife had been cheating on him with his best friend.
Jack divorced his wife, and she moved to a different state with his now ex-best friend. He didn’t let the incident harden his heart, and he remained kind towards everyone around him. However, everybody knew that he was quite a lonely man no matter how kind and friendly he was.
To ease his loneliness, Jack got himself a dog and named it Ralph. “At least you won’t betray me, right Ralph?” he said once he got him, smiling through the pain.
As he was a busy man, Jack had Ralph trained to behave. He would allow Ralph the freedom to run in their backyard in the afternoons, and once he grew tired, the adorable dog would find its way back inside the house.
One day, he let Ralph outside. He was watching a movie on TV when he realized Ralph had not returned home yet. He stepped out and heard the dog barking from afar.
Jack ran over the fence to get closer. Once he reached the road, he saw Ralph next to a baby lying on the grass.
“You poor child,” he said, saddened that someone would leave a helpless baby out on the street. He checked around the area for a bag that might have belonged to the child, but there wasn’t any. A tiny baby was crying, lying in a basket, while my dog sadly nudged her with his nose, as if out of sympathy. Inside the basket, I found a note. I read it with a heavy sigh.
“Don’t look for her parents. This child is yours now. Take care of her.”
Before taking her home, he went to the nearby convenience store and purchased baby milk and diapers so that he could properly care for the child. When they got home, he fed her and changed her diapers. Then he called the police and reported the incident.
“This poor baby was left alone on the street with nothing but her clothes. There were no other adults in the area, so I took her in,” Jack explained.
The police said that they would check CCTV footage in the area to find her parents. However, they were to search for foster parents for the baby for now.
After hearing this, Jack didn’t hesitate. “Can I become her guardian?” he asked. “I run my businesses from home, so I wouldn’t have any problems taking care of her.”
The police got a couple more details and proof of identification from Jack, and they allowed the little girl to live with him. Jack took care of her for months, and when it was determined that her parents could not be identified, she was up for adoption.
As soon as he could, Jack processed the papers needed to adopt the little girl, whom he named Emily, legally.
He raised Emily as his own daughter, even naming her after his mother who also raised him on her own. He loved Emily dearly and provided her with everything she needed and more.
Likewise, Jack was Emily’s hero. She looked up to her dad and always wanted to be around him. Together, they enjoyed every meal together and would go to the park, their favorite ice cream parlors, and the arcade where they spent time a lot of time together.
When Emily turned seven and started going to school, many of the parents and even teachers would note how Jack and Emily looked alike. Even Jack’s friends would say that they “looked like twins.”
Jack never thought of Emily as his adopted daughter, so he took these as compliments and would simply smile every time someone spoke about their resemblance.
One day, while Emily was playing with Ralph in their backyard, she fell and scratched her head on the pavement. As Jack began to treat the wound with an antiseptic, he noticed an incredible thing.
“Would you look at that, sweetheart? We have the same birthmark!” he said, surprised. He never noticed Emily’s birthmark before because her hair covered it.
“We were always meant to be together, dad,” she said, wiping her tears away and smiling at her dad.
Curious about how this could happen, Jack decided to do a DNA test. He took a sample of Emily’s hair and sent it alongside his own. He didn’t think much of it, but he was stunned when the results came about three weeks later.
The test showed a 99.9% match that Emily was his daughter. He had always been a loyal man, so it only meant one thing – his ex-wife had been pregnant with his child.
He decided to give her a call, and she answered. “What do you want, Jack?”
“Why didn’t you tell me we had a daughter?” he asked her as soon as she answered.
“I didn’t want to raise your child, nor did I want to see you ever again, so I left her on the road. I knew you’d find her anyway. Bye now, and please don’t ever call me again,” she said before putting down the phone.
Jack couldn’t believe it and was in tears. While knowing that Emily was actually his biological daughter did not affect his love for her, he was glad to know that he was able to care for his own daughter.
“What’s wrong, dad?” Emily asked after she saw her dad crying.
“Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart. I’m just really happy,” he explained. “Remember what dad told you? That you were sent to me from heaven even though I was not your real dad?” he asked her.
Emily nodded. “You are my real dad, dad. Don’t forget that,” she corrected him.
“Yes, sweetheart. I am your real dad. These DNA results prove that” he said, handing her the paper.
“I told you, dad. We were always meant to be together,” Emily said, hugging him.
A few years later, Jack found love again. Having been present in all of Emily’s school activities, he eventually fell in love with one of her teachers.
Two years after they got married, Emily gained a baby sister. Emily took on being a big sister with a lot of pride and joy.
Since then, Jack, Emily, and the rest of their family have lived peacefully and happily. They valued their time together as a family more than anything. This prompted Jack to retire early to spend more time with his children.
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