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.
Don’t toss those eggshells! Here’s why you should keep them
Here are some advantages that egg shells provide if you’re one of those persons who loves eggs for breakfast and eats them frequently. See why you should never again throw eggshells in the garbage by reading the article below.
1. All-natural insect repellent
Eggshells might be the answer if slugs, worms, and snails are regular garden visitors who eat your flowers and kill the plant. All you have to do is cover the plants with crushed eggshells, and you’ll soon notice a change. It turns out that the fragrance of eggshells repels these creatures, so you won’t see them in your yard again.
2. Drives away deer
Eggshells are a deer repellent, just like they are to insects. Using this tip may help keep deer away from your garden and your plants, which they tend to destroy, if you live in a wooded region where they are frequent visitors.
3. Bird Food
Some creatures find the eggshells repulsive, yet others find them to be a great delight. If you scatter eggshells across your yard, you could see a flock of feathered friends enjoying their favorite snack. Birds adore eggshells. This is a pleasant approach to draw birds, who deter unsightly insects in addition to brightening people’s days with their beautiful appearance and endearing tweets.
4. Improve Soil Health
Using eggshell dust or solution as fertilizer is a sustainable way to repurpose materials that would otherwise end up in your local landfill.
Their calcium carbonate content naturally lowers the pH of your soil, which is good for plants that like lower pH conditions. Because of this modification, the soil becomes more alkaline and these plants are better able to absorb nutrients.
5. Eat Healthier Veggies
Eggshells contain calcium carbonate, which can help plants that are susceptible to calcium deficiencies—like tomatoes, eggplants, and peppers—by lowering their risk of blossom end rot. Crushed eggshells added to the soil will keep the vegetables colorful, plump, and flavorful.
6. Bring Potted Plants’ pH Up with Pexels
A horticulture expert with the University of Illinois Extension points out that research conducted in greenhouses with plants growing in pots have demonstrated that adding eggshells to the soil can raise its pH. The enormous volume of soil in a backyard garden is very different from the tiny amount of soil in a pot.The typical homeowner is not likely to be able to produce enough eggshells to increase the pH of their soil.
7. Composting Made Simple
Eggshells and citrus peels break down gradually in a compost pile or container, which makes crushed eggshell material ideal for composting. They add nutrients and minerals to the compost material as they decompose and enhance it.
Rinse the shells well to remove any raw egg residue before composting. The decomposition process is accelerated when they are broken down into smashed shells because smaller fragments decompose faster than whole eggs.
The next time you have eggs, be sure to use the eggshells to add some beauty to your potted plants or yard.
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