Two weeks after I acquired my home, my sister and her three kids moved in without asking. She presented a shocking argument for why I couldn’t throw them out. I was fed up with being the family’s doormat and don’t regret my decision. In my position, you wouldn’t either.
A house is where the heart is. But sometimes those who should care most shatter your heart. Those who know me call me Nora. I learnt at 33 that pursuing your aspirations might make you a family target.
As I faced 1247 Maplewood Lane, the keys felt chilly. My new home featured three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a backyard for Daisy and Finn to run.
I owned this property after years of cramped flats and flimsy walls. All my sacrifices, mortgage payments, and late-night work shifts lead to this moment.
My phone buzzed two weeks after moving in. Sadie, my sister, appeared on TV.
“So,” her voice had a peculiar edge I couldn’t understand, “heard you got yourself a big house.”
“Sadie, it’s small. The home is normal.”
Three bedrooms for one? That seems wasteful. How many households could utilize that space?
Hold on. How I spend my money isn’t your concern.”
“Your money?” She chuckled. “Sure. Some of us struggle to raise three kids in a little home while others play with their lovely dogs.”
These adorable dogs have been more like family than…
Then what? Your true family? Nora—listen to yourself.”
“Sadie, what’s this about?”
“Nora, family matters. Providing actual assistance to your sister, a divorced single parent starting over. I suppose compassion and obligation don’t matter to you.”
“I’m done. It’s acceptable to be selfish and not allow others bully me. Call myself egoistic. Do not call again.”
I hung up.
The following morning, another call. And another. Each time, Sadie’s voice sharpened. She became angry and accusatory, like she intended to harm me.
On the fourth call, she said, “You know your problem?” “You’ve always been selfish. You never shared as kids. Do you remember not letting me touch your dollhouse?
I folded clothing in my new bedroom to make it seem like home. That’s false, Sadie, and you know it. We were kids!”
Is it true? Your nephew and nieces sleep in bunk beds in your closet while you live alone in a family-sized home. Their space is limited.”
My hands halted on a towel. “Sadie, I worked 16-hour days to buy this place. I saved for the down payment by eating ramen and rice for months. It’s not selfish. I want something of my own after years of nothing.”
Avoid the sob tale. We might move in tomorrow. Those spare bedrooms are unoccupied while my children and baby live in a little dump.
“I’m not responsible for your kids!”
Dear Nora, family supports family! Apparently you missed that memo.”
“No way!” I snapped and hung up.
I responded immediately when the phone rang again.
The pets have more room than my kids! Is that fair? How can you sleep knowing that?
I replied, “At least they’re loyal, not entitled like some people,” and shut off my phone.
Two weeks of peace were precious. I believed she had moved on to guilt-tripping someone else. Shoulda known better.
I heard youngsters giggling as I walked up my driveway yesterday after a long 12-hour job. They trampled my porch. Closer inspection plummeted my heart.
Three kids—my nephew and nieces—ran about my backyard. Cardboard crates piling up at my front entrance symbolized my darkest worries.
“What’s up?” I shout.
Sadie left my home with another package. Her chilly grin could cool a fire.
Wow, wonderful timing! We just moved our last thing.”
Moved in? You talking about what, Sadie? “You cannot just…”
She set the box down and rubbed her hands on her pants like she belonged. Now we reside here. You cannot throw us out before yelling and creating a fuss. Our house sold via a friend’s real estate connections. We have nowhere to go, and you wouldn’t dump your family on the street, would you? What type of individual does that?
“You sold your home? Moved here? Without talking to me? Without asking?
“Why should I need permission to do what’s best for my kids? Nora, families do this. They aid those in need. I assume you don’t get it.”
This is crazy. This is insane. How did you enter my house?
She smiled wider and seemed meaner. “Mom gave me your spare key! She believed your living alone was stupid. In that little cage, we feel like a lonely old woman. Even she finds you selfish.”
“I gave her that key for emergencies only!”
NORA, this is an emergency! My kids need space to develop, breathe, and play. They deserve more than my tiny house can provide. You have all this empty space.”
Holding my phone, my fingers shook. “You have five minutes to put those boxes back in your car or I’ll call the police.”
SADY folded her arms. “You wouldn’t police your family.”
“Try me.” I called 911 on speaker so she could hear every number.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
I need to report a break-in. Someone entered my house without permission and won’t leave.”
Sadie paled. Hang up! Hang up!”
Are you in urgent danger, madam?
“Actually,” I said to my sister, “I think we can figure this out. Thank you.”
I hung up. Sadie was shouting at her kids.
“Ben, Lily, Noah… Return toys to packaging. Now!”
“But Mommy, you said we were staying here,” Lily cried.
“Plans changed, honey. Going to Grandma’s instead.”
I saw them stuff her old Honda with boxes. She left a couple tiny boxes outside my door as the sun sank.
“I’ll pick up the rest tomorrow,” she said, ignoring me.
I contacted our mother as her taillights faded.
“Mom, did you give Sadie my spare key?”
“Oh, honey,” she said. Lily cried for her teddy bear left at your house. I assumed you wouldn’t mind.”
“She lied, Mom. They never visited. Teddy was absent. She sought to transfer her family into my residence without permission.”
“My God! I’m sorry, Nora. I didn’t anticipate her action. I wouldn’t have given her the key if I known.”
I hung up and drove two blocks to Sadie’s house to confirm she sold it. She lied about it too. Her automobile was parked outside with lights on.
When I contacted Mom again, her sigh could have powered a windmill. “That girl… I’m sorry, Nora. I was unaware.”
“I know you didn’t. I need you to know… Tomorrow I change my locks.”
Sadie texted me at midnight: “You can’t keep me from what’s rightfully mine.”
I focused on the words until they blurred. Rightfully hers? This home I earned, saved, and dreamt of. Her mental state was how?
I wrote back: “Return to my property without permission and I’ll arrest you for trespassing. I’m done.”
I blocked her phone, social media, and any direct contact with me.
But I wasn’t done.
I replied in our family group chat: “Just wanted to thank my sister for worrying about my ‘wasteful’ house purchase. Good news: Sadie didn’t sell her house. She packed and attempted to move into my. Funny how that works!”
Within minutes, responses came in. Aunt Beth: “She WHAT?”
Mike, cousin: “That’s wrong, Sadie.”
Uncle Jim: “Nora, I’m so sorry you went through that.”
Aunt Lucy: “Sadie, you’re awful.”
My phone rang immediately. Sadie phoned from another number. Leave it on voicemail.
“You’re a mean witch, Nora! You humiliated me in front of the family! Not over!”
Just in case, I stored that voicemail.
Dear readers, I’m writing this on my patio watching the locksmith seal the new locks. Installed cameras. Lost spare key. I now feel at home with Daisy and Finn in our imperfect house.
People constantly asking whether I regret dumping Sadie. If I regret telling our family her falsehoods. Perhaps I was too harsh.
I tell them I was the family doormat for years, constantly giving in to keep things peaceful. I let people walk over me because it was simpler than standing. I promised myself change when I signed that mortgage.
I bought a home for more than shelter. I purchased freedom. I’m independent. And my right to refuse without explanation.
Sadie wants my hard work for her own benefit. She wanted to bring her turmoil, troubles, and entitlement into my sanctuary.
So no, no unpleasant feelings. Feeling proud.
I’m not evil. I discovered that creating limits is survival, not selfishness. People that label you selfish may be upset they can’t utilize you anymore.
Though blood is thicker than water, respect is thicker.
