The call came just as I was putting away the last boxes in my newly purchased cottage.
A small, charming one, tucked away in a quiet valley where I planned to spend my first few weeks of rest after years of working nonstop. It still smelled of new wood and fresh paint; the furniture was barely arranged. I was about to make a cup of tea when my cell phone rang.
It was my daughter-in-law, Laura.
— “Surprise! We’re arriving in two hours with twenty of my relatives. We want to spend two weeks there. Do you have rooms and some food for everyone?”
For a second I thought I’d misheard. Twenty people? Two weeks? Here?
But she spoke so happily, so confidently, that a part of me knew instantly it wasn’t a joke.
I looked around: the cottage had two small bedrooms , a living room that could barely fit the sofa and table, and a kitchen so cramped you had to take a step back to open the refrigerator door. I didn’t have enough food to last me even three days on my own. And to top it all off, the nearest town was a fifteen-minute drive away… if it wasn’t raining.I took a deep breath. I could collapse, or I could think. I chose to think.
“Perfect, Laura,” I replied in the calmest voice I could muster. “I’ll be waiting for you here.”
After hanging up, I placed my hands on the table. I wasn’t angry; I was incredulous. But there was something else too: the opportunity to set boundaries, even if elegantly. And besides, a part of me enjoyed practical challenges.
I started taking a quick inventory:
She had yoga mats.
She had extra, freshly laundered blankets.
She had a nearly empty pantry but a car with gas.
And, most importantly, she had enough time to organize a small amount of chaos before a larger chaos arrived.
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