When the new neighbors started parking their truck on Edna’s manicured lawn, they assumed the elderly widow would simply accept the intrusion. But Edna, fiercely protective of the home she and her late husband built, wasn’t ready to let them take over the land without a fight.
My name is Edna, and I’ve lived in this house for over fifty years. This house holds all the memories I have of my late husband, Harold. He planted the trees, trimmed the hedges, and made sure our little piece of land was perfect.
We raised our two children here, watched them grow up, and then saw them leave to start their own families. Now, every blade of grass in this garden reminds me of the life we built together.
