My Sweetest Old Neighbor Helped Me Unpack & Later, I Found Her Note in the Box – It Made Me Immediately Sell the House

When we first moved to the little house at the end of Maple Street, I was filled with hope and a sense of new beginnings. It was just my 6-year-old daughter, Lily, and I.

We were finally starting over after a difficult year: me going through a tough divorce with Lily’s father, and Lily having to navigate life without her father living in the same house.

“It’s okay, Mom,” she said softly to me one night. “I don’t like how Dad always shouted at us.”

It was clear then that we needed to break free.

From the moment I met Mrs. Thompson, she reminded me of my own grandmother. There was this motherly warmth to her that made me feel like moving here was the right decision.

“I’m Hazel,” she said, walking up to our porch with a batch of freshly baked cookies. “I’m so glad you’re moving into the neighborhood. My house is that one.”

She pointed to the little house directly next to mine.

“And who is this little girl?” she asked, seeing Lily jump into a pile of leaves.

“This is Lily, my daughter,” I said, introducing the two. “We needed a new start.”

When our official moving day arrived, Mrs. Thompson insisted on coming over and helping me unpack.

“No, thank you,” I protested. “You’re more than welcome to stay and keep me company, but I’ll do all the heavy lifting.”

“Nonsense, dear,” she replied. “I’ve got plenty of energy left in these old bones,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

We spent the entire afternoon together, chatting and laughing as we organized the kitchen, arranged the living room, and set up Lily’s bedroom. Mrs. Thompson’s company made the daunting task enjoyable, and I was grateful for her kindness.

“Mrs. Thompson,” I said, feeling a mix of gratitude and guilt as the old woman set Lily’s books onto her bookshelf. “You really don’t have to do all of this. You’ve been so helpful, but I feel bad taking up your time.”

“Oh, no, Phoebe,” she replied with a wave of her hand. “I enjoy the company. And it’s been too quiet here lately. I don’t really get out much because I get dizzy spells sometimes. This has been good for me, too.”

As evening approached, Mrs. Thompson asked me to go over to her house for dinner.

“I’ll just throw something together,” she said. “Lily is with your mom, so you’re going to be all alone in the new house. At least this way, I’ll know that you’ve eaten before you go back.”

I sat in her kitchen as she moved around seamlessly cutting vegetables to throw into a pot of pasta. I had never been so grateful for a stranger before.

The divorce had been hard, and when I told my mother about it, she tried to persuade me to try harder with Lily’s dad, Garrett.

“Just give it another go, Phoebe,” she had told me. “You’ll be glad to know that you tried harder for Lily.”

After that, I kept the divorce to myself, only going over to my parents so that they could spend time with Lily. So, having Mrs. Thompson around gave me a soothing feeling. Something that I didn’t know I needed.

As evening approached, I took my leave, and she gave me a gentle hug as she walked me out.

“If you need anything, dear, don’t hesitate to ask,” she said before closing the front door.

That night, exhausted but content, I decided to leave the last few boxes for the next day.

“That’s tomorrow’s problem,” I sighed, getting into bed.

I had a restful night, punctuated by dreams of the new life I had just begun. But as I walked into the living room the next morning, a cup of coffee in hand, my eyes were immediately drawn to an envelope placed on one of the remaining boxes.

It was addressed to “The New Owner.”

Curiosity piqued, I opened it and unfolded a neatly written note:

Dear New Neighbor,

Welcome to your new home! I hope you find as much joy and comfort in this neighborhood as I have over the years. There is something important you should know about this house, something that I couldn’t tell you in person.

You see, the previous owner and I had a special agreement regarding a beloved pet, an exotic and high-maintenance tortoise named Sheldon, who lives in the basement.

Sheldon has been a part of this household for decades and requires specific care and attention. I had taken on the responsibility of caring for him after the previous owner passed away. I promised old Raymond that I would do it until the house gets a new owner.

Unfortunately, I’ve become too old to continue caring for Sheldon. And I hoped that you would take on the responsibility. I’ve seen how happy Lily is in the house, playing in the yard, her laughter filling the air.

I didn’t want to tell you in front of her and have her get excited about him. I didn’t want to put you in a difficult position.

Sheldon is gentle and has been a beloved part of the household, but his care is time-consuming and requires specific knowledge and resources. As a single mother, I know you already have your hands full, and I don’t want to overwhelm you during your fresh start.

Please, let me know what you’d like us to do.

Warm regards,

Hazel Thompson

As I stood there, the note in my hands, I tried to process what Mrs. Thompson had written. Despite her kindness and the fascinating nature of the tortoise, I realized I couldn’t take on such a responsibility.

The thought of Lily wanting to take care of the tortoise was sweet, but there was just no way I wanted to take on such a task so quickly.

Later that day, I decided to talk to Mrs. Thompson. I walked next door and knocked gently. She opened the door, her warm smile fading slightly when she saw the note in my hand.

“Ah, you found it,” she said softly.

“Mrs. Thompson, I don’t know what to say. Sheldon sounds wonderful, but I don’t think I can take care of him,” I began. “It’s just Lily and I, and we moved here to start fresh. I can’t handle another responsibility, especially one so demanding.”

She nodded, her eyes full of understanding and a hint of sadness.

“Of course, I understand,” she said. “He’s just grown on me. And did you know that in some cultures, the tortoise often represents longevity, immortality, and the cycle of life?”

“Thank you for understanding,” I said, hoping that I was doing the right thing.

“Please, Phoebe, why don’t you stay for a cup of tea?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“I’ve got to get back, I’m going to pick up Lily soon,” I said. “Do you think that you could remove the tortoise before I bring her home?”

Mrs. Thompson nodded at me.

“He’ll be gone before you get back.”

I went back to the house and instead of unpacking the final boxes and getting ready to fetch my daughter, I just sat on the couch.

There was something about the way Mrs. Thompson’s face fell when I told her that I didn’t want the tortoise. There was a disappointment in her that I didn’t understand. But it was there.

And being the people-pleasing person that I am, I didn’t want to be there anymore. Suddenly the new beginning didn’t feel so new. It felt different. I felt like I had already disappointed a person that I was growing to like.

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