Finally Finding the Truth
I drove slowly down the old familiar road, my heart pounding with a mix of fear, sadness, and anger. I hadn’t been back to my childhood home in years, and honestly, I never wanted to come back. But there was one reason strong enough to bring me here now — to take my mother away with me, and never, ever return.
But there was still one question haunting me, something that never made sense:
Why did my mother hate our old neighbor, Jeremy, so much?
I was about to find out — and the truth would change everything I thought I knew.
As I pulled up to the driveway, the house stood there like a tired old friend, worn around the edges but still standing tall. It looked almost exactly the same as I remembered, and that made my chest ache with memories I wasn’t ready for.
I stepped out of the car and took a deep breath. The air smelled like the garden — roses, fresh dirt — and the faint scent of old wood mixed in, just like when I was a kid.
Memories rushed at me, fast and hard. Birthdays, Christmas mornings, rainy days spent staring out that living room window. And the last time I was here — years ago, at a family gathering that felt more like a job than a party.
Back then, I had my own busy life: my job, my friends, endless things that felt urgent. I stayed away longer than I should have, and deep down, I knew it.
The truth was, Mom and I were never close.
Her name was Susan — strong-willed, sharp-tongued, and impossible to argue with.
As a little girl, I had found it hard to talk to her without getting snapped at. As I grew older, our talks became shorter, colder. It was easier to just stay away.
But lately, things had changed.
On the phone, her voice sounded weaker, tired. She complained about how hard it was to shop for groceries, clean the house, even get out of bed some days.
Hearing her so vulnerable broke something inside me. She needed help — real help — and it was time to bring her closer to me, where she could be safe.
Strangely, it wasn’t until her neighbor Jeremy passed away that she finally agreed to leave.
Jeremy. The man she hated so much.
All my life, Mom warned me about him.
“Stay away from Jeremy!” she’d say.
“Don’t play near his yard, you hear me?”
But he was nothing but kind to me. A gentle smile, a soft voice — not scary at all.
At some point, I gave up asking why she hated him. I just followed her rules.
Now, with my bags heavy in my hands, I stepped toward the house, feeling that strange mix of comfort and dread. I pushed open the door, and the scent of old lavender and wood rushed out to meet me. It was like stepping back in time.
Almost immediately, I heard her voice, sharp and bossy as ever, shouting from upstairs:
“Lisa, is that you?”
“Yeah, Mom! Are you packing already?” I called back, trying to sound cheerful.
“I still need some time. Clean up on the first floor!” she ordered.
I looked up the stairs, debating whether to offer help. Maybe this time she’d accept it, maybe we could share a quiet moment.
“Want me to help you pack? It’ll be faster, Mom.”
“No!” she barked. “I said stay out of here! I’ll do it myself!”
I sighed, already feeling exhausted. Of course. She hadn’t changed one bit. It was easier to let her win these small battles.
“Alright, Mom,” I muttered under my breath, dropping my bags near the living room.
I glanced around. The shelves were crammed with old knick-knacks and faded pictures. My eyes landed on a framed photo — Mom, Dad, and me, smiling on a beach somewhere.
I picked it up, studying their faces. I didn’t look like my dad at all.
He had deep brown eyes, just like Mom.
Mine were green — a strange detail I had noticed as a kid but never thought much about.
Dad had died when I was young. Mom never talked much about him after that. It was like he had been locked away in these dusty photos forever.
Carefully, I placed the photo in a box, then wandered into my old bedroom.
It looked almost the same — small, quiet, cozy. I opened the wardrobe, half-expecting it to be empty. But tucked in the very back, I found something that made me gasp: Mr. Peebles.
My old stuffed bear!
Jeremy had given him to me when I was little.
I remembered that day so clearly — his kind face, the excitement when I hugged the bear.
But Mom had been furious when she found out.
She grounded me for a week and demanded I throw Mr. Peebles away.
I couldn’t do it.
Instead, I hid him here, and he stayed my secret friend all these years.
Holding Mr. Peebles now, I felt that same old question stirring inside me.
Why did Mom hate Jeremy so much?
I couldn’t ignore the curiosity anymore.
Restless, I walked to the staircase and called up:
“Mom! How much longer?”
“An hour… maybe more!” she shouted back.
I sighed, shaking my head.
“I’ll go for a walk!”
“Fine! But don’t go far!” she snapped.
I laughed under my breath.
“Mom, I’m forty-two years old! I think I’ll be fine.”
She muttered something that sounded like, “Old habits die hard.”
Smiling, I stepped outside, the cool breeze brushing my face.
My eyes drifted to Jeremy’s old house across the street. It stood empty, sad, abandoned.
Nobody had claimed it after he died — no family, no friends.
Just silence.
Before I even realized what I was doing, my feet carried me toward it. I climbed the porch steps and tried the door.
It swung open with a loud creak.
“Hello?” I called out.
Nothing. Just silence and dust.
I stepped inside. The air was heavy and smelled of loneliness — a life lived quietly and forgotten.
I walked carefully upstairs, my heart pounding louder with every step.
In what must have been Jeremy’s bedroom, I found it:
A dusty box sitting on a small table.
I brushed the dust away and froze.
On the lid, written in neat handwriting, were the words: “For Lisa.”
For me?
My hands shook as I opened the box.
Inside were stacks of letters, faded photos, and a journal. I picked up a photo and gasped.
It was Jeremy — young and smiling — with his arm around someone.
My mother.
They looked… happy.
Laughing.
Close.
Tears stung my eyes as I picked up the journal and flipped through the pages.
One entry stopped me cold:
“Today was my dear Lisa’s eleventh birthday. Susan is still furious with me. I can’t blame her.
I abandoned her when she needed me the most — when she found out she was pregnant. I was a coward.
I wish I could turn back time and be there for my little girl.”
My breath caught.
Was he talking about me?
Page after page told the same story — regret, love, heartbreak.
“Today I gave Lisa a teddy bear. She named him Mr. Peebles. Watching her hug him almost broke my heart.
But Susan will never let me be part of her life. She’ll probably make Lisa throw the bear away.”
Jeremy wasn’t just a kind neighbor.
He was my father.
Tears streamed down my face. I had spent my whole life not knowing.
At the bottom of the box, there was a sealed letter.
I opened it carefully.
“Dear Lisa,
I always loved you. Not a day went by that I didn’t regret not being there for you.
Please don’t blame your mother. She had every right to protect you.
I was the one who made the mistakes, not her.
I’m leaving all my savings and the house to you — my only family.”
I couldn’t breathe.
Clutching the letter, I wiped my tears and tucked it safely into my coat pocket.
It was time to go back.
When I returned to Mom’s house, she was waiting on the porch, her suitcases lined up neatly beside her.
“Lisa, where have you been? I’ve been ready for ten minutes,” she said, her voice sharrp as ever.
She noticed my red, tear-streaked eyes and frowned.
“Lisa, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”
I smiled, blinking back fresh tears.
“Yeah, Mom. Just got some dust in my eyes. Had a hard time washing it out. So, shall we go?”
She gave me a suspicious look but nodded.
“Yes, let’s go, honey. I don’t want to live here anymore. There’s no one left for me here.”
I smiled sadly.
“I agree, Mom. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”
We loaded the car together, and as I pulled away from the house, I glanced back one last time.
I finally knew the truth.
And even though it hurt, it was better late than never.