Isn’t life supposed to get easier once you retire? Not for me. My husband, Ron, died a month ago, and I’ve gotten used to living off my savings. I had been with Ron for the longest time, so being in that house alone was too much.

Then, I asked my only son, Connor, whether I could live with him and his wife, Eve, for a while.

I wanted peace, but all I got was chaos.

We let the house out, and I gave the monthly rent to my son as a sign of good faith because I didn’t want them to think I would extend my stay indefinitely. Connor works long hours as an IT Technician, and Eve is a homemaker. Connor gave me a room on the first floor of their home.

“So, you don’t have to worry about your knees and the stairs,” he said, lugging my bags in on the first day.

Everything was fine.

Initially, Eve was the best. She doted on me, cooking and doing dishes — even when I told her not to and that I could do it alone.

But then, things began to change.

We went from cooking and taking care of the house together to Eve giving all the chores to me. Of course, I did not mind doing it. Connor and Eve had welcomed me into their home, and I wanted to show them I was grateful. But the problem was, these old knees got tired.

Anyway, a few days before Christmas, while Eve was giggling away at a movie on the television, she called me into the living room.

“Lucy,” she said. “After you finish the laundry, please go out and buy groceries for tonight’s dinner and Christmas dinner, too. Nine people are coming over. I’ll give you the money before you leave.”

I was a little shocked by that. Usually, Eve and I went grocery shopping together — but this was the first time she had dictated it to me in such a manner.

And that’s when it slapped me in the face: the longer I stayed with Connor and Eve, the less I was a guest in the house and the more I was a caregiver for the home.

Instead of fussing about everything, I wanted to teach Eve a lesson. Cooking and feeding many people was something that I had always known, coming from a large family.

Fast forward to Christmas dinner — the house is now filled with the smell of delicious food, enough to make any mouth water. I put everything into that meal. From the recipes to the ingredients to the meticulous details that went into every dish, I wanted to show love and the love in the food I cooked.

Later, the guests arrived and began to nibble on the canapes and mulled wine I had put out. Then, we got to the meal, and the compliments started flowing.

“Aunt Lucy,” one of Connor’s friends called out. “This food is amazing! Did you cook all of it yourself?”

“I did, Ross,” I said, feeling proud.

I watched how Connor beamed with every compliment that was thrown my way. He seemed content that his mother was around and wanted to feed him and his guests. And in my own way, I was pleased, too. This was the first Christmas without Ron, and it was difficult.

The cooking distracted me from my own thoughts of him.

Now, what about Eve? The poor thing seemed to look at me in a different light after that. She finally realized that I was more than someone she could pass her chores along to.

“Lucy,” she said, helping herself to the cranberry sauce. “I doubted that you would make so many delicious things!”

“Thank you, Eve,” I said, simply grateful that the day was almost over and everything seemed to go according to plan.

Post-feast, Eve and I were tidying up while Connor entertained the living room guests. I glanced at Eve; she had envy on her face.

The thing is, I could understand that. If my dinner guests had enjoyed the meal in my home, then I would want compliments, too. But that wasn’t the case because Eve had thrown everything at me.

“Lucy, can we talk?” she asked me.

“Sure,” I said. “What’s on your mind, Darling?”

She smiled at the name.

“I didn’t realize how much you do around the house. I’ve wanted to take it easy, so I added it to your load. I’m so sorry.”

Then, it was my turn to smile. The lesson had been learned.

“It’s more than fine,” I said because it was. “I just need you to know that as much as I want to help around the house, I’m old, and my knees aren’t the same anymore.”

“We make a great team,” Eve said. “Come on, let’s go put your feet up. I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

Ultimately, it was a Christmas miracle because Eve returned to the daughter-in-law I had known, not the woman who sat on the couch and dictated to me. Now, we’re sitting outside, as Eve massages my knee. Everything seems as it should be.

But this is just my story. What would you have done? Would you have taught a lesson, like me? Or would you have straight out refused to do any of it?

Here’s another story for you: My mother-in-law could not stand me throwing a lovely Thanksgiving dinner and ruined it. She didn’t stop at that—she destroyed my late Grandma’s most cherished legacy of sentimental value and broke my heart. On Christmas, I got my revenge against my spiteful mother-in-law…