I moved to a broken-down farm I’d just inherited, hoping for peace. But when my neighbor copied my yellow fence, I had no idea it was just the beginning of something much deeper and personal.
I grew up in a foster family that did their best. They were kind and patient, always packed my lunch, and clapped at my school plays, even when I stood in the back wearing a cardboard tree costume.
But real love is more than warm meals and polite claps. It’s… knowing where you come from.
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No one ever told me anything about my biological parents. The papers said they’d asked for complete confidentiality. No names. No birthdays. No stories. Just a blank space where something big should’ve been.
I used to dream that maybe they were spies. Or rock stars. Or lost somewhere in the jungle. Anything was better than the thought that they didn’t care.
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I grew up fast. By 15, I was already handing out flyers outside strip malls.
At 16, I walked dogs for people who barely remembered my name. At 18, I poured coffee for grumpy regulars who tipped in nickels and gave life advice I didn’t ask for.
“You should marry rich, sweetheart. You’ve got kind eyes.”
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By 19, I was an official barista with a crooked name tag and memorized drink orders. Then came more jobs. Caregiver. Mail carrier. Gardener. For a while, I even collected roadkill off the highway.
Don’t ask. No, really—don’t.
I knew how to survive. But it felt like bad luck ran in my DNA.
By 27, I landed my dream office job. A stable paycheck. Weekends off. It felt like winning.
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On the same day, I got sick. Six months of tests, doctors shrugging.
“Could be stress.”
Yeah, no kidding.
At 30, I became a nanny. The other nanny claimed I stole money from the family. I didn’t, but I got fired. I stood outside the building with one suitcase, my emergency fund stuffed in my jacket pocket, and a thousand-yard stare.
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Then my phone rang.
“Ellie? It’s Jake, your father’s attorney,” a warm voice said.
“My who?”
“Your father, Henry. He passed away recently. You’ve been named the sole heir of his farm. It’s about 30 kilometers out of town. You can pick up the keys tomorrow.”
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“A farm?” I repeated. “A father?”
“Biological,” he said gently. “I’ll explain more in person.”
I didn’t sleep a minute that night. I had a father. He left me a home. For the first time in my life, something belonged to me.
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***
When I pulled up to the farm, I sat there for a minute, staring at the house, the fields, the silence. One question circled in my head like a fly that wouldn’t leave me alone.
Why did he leave it to me?
The house looked tired. Chipped paint peeled away from the walls, and weeds covered the yard. But then I saw the barn. It was clean. The red paint was fresh, and the doors were straight and solid. It looked proud.
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Curious, I stepped inside. The scent of hay hit me first. The floor was swept. Neat stacks of hay lined the walls.
A row of fresh eggs sat in a basket like someone had just collected them. A bucket of water glistened in the corner, clean enough to drink.
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And then there were the animals. Chickens clucked softly, pecking the straw. A big brown-and-white cow stood calmly, blinking at me.
The dog was the strangest part. He sat by the door like he’d been waiting for me. His fur was a little shaggy. I crouched.
“Come here, boy…”
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He trotted over and licked my hand like we’d known each other for years.
“Okay, weird,” I said softly, glancing around. “Who’s been feeding you?”
It had been a week since my father had passed away.
So… who’s been taking care of all this? Must’ve been the neighbors.
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I dropped my bag by the door and looked around inside the house. Dust floated through the sunlight like lazy snowflakes.
On the wall hung a single photo. A man in his 50s. His eyes were warm. My chest ached just looking at him—my father.
I sat on the floor and looked around. I didn’t know that man. Didn’t know that farm. But somehow, I wasn’t scared. I stayed.
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***
Each morning, I woke up with a purpose. I fixed the fence, painted the porch, and learned how to collect eggs without getting pecked.
I wasn’t sure how, but I just knew what to do. It was like something inside me had clicked—a secret switch.
“Farmer Mode ON.”
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But just as I started to feel at home, she showed up.
Linda. My neighbor.
At first, I thought she was just shy. Then, I thought she was a little odd.
Then, she… started copying everything I did. That’s when things started to get weird.
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***
“What the…?”
I froze by the kitchen window, a spoonful of cereal halfway to my mouth.
Just the day before, I had painted my fence bright yellow. It was the only can of paint I found in the shed, and I was on a budget. The paint smelled awful, but the fence looked cheerful.
At that moment, staring across the property line, I saw Linda’s fence. It was also yellow, the same shade.
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“Maybe just a coincidence.”
The next day, I built a new mailbox. I was proud of it—wooden, with a tiny sloped roof and a carved little bird sitting on top. It took me all afternoon and three Band-Aids.
I stepped back and said aloud, “You nailed it, Ellie.”
The following morning, I stepped outside… and there it was. Linda’s mailbox. Same shape. Same roof. The exact same bird.
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“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, clutching my coffee cup.
I tried to be polite and waved to Linda when I saw her outside. She never waved back—just scurried into her barn like I’d caught her doing something illegal.
But then came the daisies. They were my favorite. I planted them in a curved line near my front steps.
The next morning?
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Linda had the same daisies. Same curve. The same little row of stones was around them. I walked outside and just stared at her yard.
Is she watching me? Copying me on purpose?
I tried to brush it off until yoga.
One sunny morning, I rolled my mat on the grass and started my usual routine. Just some stretches to loosen up.
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When I looked over, Linda was wobbling in my exact pose.
She was wearing jeans and a floppy hat. She was copying again.
That was it. My patience was gone. I marched across the yard and knocked on her wooden gate.
“Hey, Linda! We need to talk!”
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The door creaked open slowly. She stood there, still, silent. Her dark eyes met mine. Wide. Serious. A little scared.
“Why are you copying everything I do? What do you want from me?!”
She didn’t answer. Just stepped back and nodded slightly.
I followed her into the house. That’s when I saw them.
Letters. Dozens of them. Scattered on the table. All addressed to me.
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“What are these?”
She picked up the top one and handed it to me. Her fingers shook. I opened it.
“My dear Ellie,
I don’t know how to talk to you. I don’t know if you’d even want to listen.
But I am… your mother. I lived near your father. We were never officially divorced, but we lived apart. When you were born, I was… different.
I have autism.
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Life overwhelmed me. Your father decided it would be best if a stable, loving family raised you. But I always knew about you. And when he died, I took care of the farm. And then you came…
I didn’t know how to approach you or how to speak.
So I started doing what you did.
It was my way… of being close.”
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I reread the letter. And again.
“You…” I looked up.
She stood still, barely breathing. I reached for another letter—an older one. A photo fell out. Young Linda was holding a toddler, both smiling.
“Is this…?”
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“That’s my daughter. Ellie.”
“Me?”
“My daughter,” she repeated softly. “You’re Ellie.”
Suddenly… I don’t know why, but… I turned and ran. Back to my yard. Past the daisies. Past the mailbox.
And I cried. I didn’t know how to fix anything, and I didn’t know if I was ready for it.
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***
A few days passed.
I stayed inside. No reading, no coffee, no watering the daisies. I just lay on the couch, watching shadows crawl across the ceiling, hoping they’d spell out something that made sense.
I wasn’t sick. Not in a way any doctor could fix. It was the kind of ache that fills your chest and makes everything feel… weightless and heavy at the same time.
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I thought that knowing the truth would bring peace.
But instead of closure, I found a mother. And somehow, that unraveled me more than all the years I’d spent wondering.
Then, one morning, I opened the front door. A stack of letters—thick envelopes tied with string—sitting quietly on my doorstep.
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I took them inside with trembling hands. Each envelope was marked with a year. One letter for every year of my life. Thirty letters.
I read the first. Then, the second. Then, all of them.
Each one was handwritten in a neat, careful script. Some had drawings. Others had dried petals tucked inside. All were full of emotion, wonder, sorrow… and love.
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So much love.
Linda wrote to me every year—for birthdays, first days of school I never told her about, and college she didn’t even know I’d never finished. She imagined it all, sending wishes into the void.
I cried over every single page. Sobbed. Because for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel forgotten.
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On the third morning, I opened the door again.
The flowerbeds had been watered. The animals were fed. The yard looked freshly swept.
A folded note was tucked under a jar of jam left on the porch.
“Saved the milk in my fridge.
Love, Mom”
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Mom.
I held the note in my hands and stared at that one word.
For the first time, it didn’t feel imaginary. I had a mother—a quiet, complicated, awkward woman who showed love not through words but through letters and gestures.
And I realized… maybe it wasn’t her who had failed me. Perhaps it was the situation. The way life broke apart before either of us could hold it together.
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Dad’s guilt now lives with me: in these walls, in this land, in the silence he left behind. But I have the power to rewrite the ending.
Right then, I made a decision. I stepped out into the morning sun. Barefoot, like always.
Linda was in her yard, wobbling in a half-hearted yoga pose, her sunhat nearly falling over her eyes. But she was trying—still trying.
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My heart ached. I walked toward the fence.
“That’s… the warrior pose. I’m not a huge fan either.”
She froze, then slowly turned. A small, shy smile tugged at her lips.
“You’re doing great,” I added. “But you’ll do better without the hat.”
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She took it off, smoothed the brim with her fingers, and laid it gently on the grass. Then, she moved into the tree pose. She wobbled and fell over sideways.
I really laughed—for the first time in days.
“Okay,” I said, stepping closer to the fence. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll show you one pose, and you try it. But… no more mailbox copying.”
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“Okay,” she whispered.
“You’ll do better if you relax your fingers.”
And we stood there—both of us—finally on the same side of the yard, under the same sky. A little clumsy. A little unsure. But no longer alone.
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Later, we made tea at my place. I pointed to the photo from her letter.
“That photo… that’s you?”
She nodded.
“And my daughter Ellie. It’s you and me.”
“I’ve read all the letters. Thank you, Mom.”
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She clutched her teacup with both hands.
“Can I… try that one pose tomorrow? The one with the leg in the air?”
I nodded. We both smiled. Then we laughed. And somehow, it felt like life was finding its color again.
And you know what?
That yellow fence didn’t seem so weird anymore. Maybe it was the beginning. Just like us.
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Poor Mom Is Barred from Boarding Plane to Get Home to Son, ‘I Need to See My Baby!’ She Screams — Story of the Day
A distraught mom loses her cool when barred from boarding the flight. “You don’t understand! I need to see my baby!” she screams, but it’s all for naught. In the end, she receives help from the most unexpected place.
When Caitlyn and Declan Cooper welcomed their son, Eden, Caitlyn decided to step up on the household front and embrace her mommy duties, making Declan the family’s primary breadwinner.
However, a few months after Caitlyn became a full-time mom, Declan noticed how tired she looked. She hardly had any time to herself and couldn’t sleep well since Eden would wake her in the middle of the night.
So on Catilyn’s birthday, Declan surprised her with flight tickets to Japan for a trip with her friends, ensuring that he’d stay behind to care for Eden alone. Caitlyn was reluctant to go, figuring everything would be too much for Declan to manage on his own. But he insisted, and she agreed.
Caitlyn was barred from boarding a flight. | Source: Shutterstock
A week later, after Declan and Eden dropped her off at the airport, Caitlyn badly missed them already. Even as she settled on the plane, her thoughts were preoccupied with whether Declan would be able to care for Eden on his own.
From the minute she arrived in Japan, she called Declan every hour to check on how things were going at home. Her friends mocked her and laughed at her, saying she was just being paranoid about the whole thing.
But only Caitlyn knew how hard it was to subdue the unsettling fear in her heart that something dreadful was about to happen. She didn’t know it would happen so soon…
Three days into their vacation, Caitlyn and her friends were at a beachside party. Her friends Amanda, Sophie, and Veronica were ogling their eyes over the shirtless men, complimenting their hot bodies, but Caitlyn … she was just lost.
“Hey, Caitlyn,” Sophie whispered, interrupting her thoughts. “Where are you even, babe? Just look at that guy. Damn, he’s hot….”
Caitlyn and her friends were enjoying a beach party. | Source: Unsplash
“Ughh,” Caitlyn sighed. “I’m just not in the mood right now, Sophie. I – I want to go back to the hotel. I’m sorry.”
Sophie frowned. “Is this about your baby and husband again? Look, Caitlyn, I understand you’re a new mom and all that, but stop being such a bore here, okay? You know what, it’s because you’re too engrossed in that stupid phone! Give it here!” Sophie tried to snatch Catilyn’s phone from her grasp.
“STOP IT, SOPHIE!” Caitlyn screamed, jerking Sophie’s hand away and drawing Veronica and Amanda’s attention away from the loud music. “I told you I am not interested! To hell with you and your party!”
Caitlyn stormed back to the hotel room, agitated, and she was pacing across the room frantically as she tried to get Declan to answer the phone. Back at the beach, she’d already tried contacting him three times, and now there were a total of 10 attempts with no news from Declan.
Caitlyn’s heart dropped to the floor at that point, and as a last resort, she called their next-door neighbor, Mrs. Louis, to check on Declan and Eden, but the call went unattended. Sophie was bawling like a child at this point, unsure of what to do.
Caitlyn was dead scared when Declan didn’t answer his phone. | Source: Unsplash
Suddenly, her phone rang, and it was Mrs. Louis on the other end. But in addition to Mrs. Louis’ voice, Caitlyn also heard some commotion in the background.
“Mrs. Louis!” cried Caitlyn. “Declan…he’s not returning my calls. Could you please check in on him and Eden for me? Please? I’m in Japan right now, and….”
“Caitlyn! Oh, I’m so glad you are safe, honey. There – There was a fire at your house, and the firemen… they’re still trying to put it out…”
“Fire?” Caitlyn’s heart skipped a beat. “Hello? Mrs. Louis?” The phone call was abruptly disconnected.
Caitlyn tried again, but it was all for naught. She panicked at this point and dashed back to the beach.
“Caitlyn, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Sophie asked, concerned.
“Oh my god! Dec – Declan and Eden…there was….”
Caitlyn broke down after she learned her house was engulfed in a fire. | Source: Unsplash
“Okay, cool down, okay…” Amanda wrapped her arms around her and comforted her. “Did something happen at home?”
Still sobbing, Caitlyn told them what transpired, insisting to go home right then. Her friends accompanied her to the airport, but sadly, when Caitlyn checked for a flight back home, she discovered that all flights to New York were fully booked.
“I guess we’ll have to wait, Caitlyn,” Amanda said gently. “Let’s hope everything turns out okay.”
“Hell no! I am going home right now!”
Caitlyn began to plead desperately with nearly every customer at the check-in counter to sell her their ticket to New York. But she was met with dismay because hardly anyone understood English and those who did refused her.
Finally, an old woman approached her and offered to help her.
“Hello, are you the one wanting to buy a ticket?” she inquired gently.
A woman came to Caitlyn’s rescue. | Source: Unsplash
“Oh yes!” Caitlyn nodded desperately. “I am ready to give you whatever price you want and even my diamond earrings, please! I need to get home to my husband and baby. Please!” she said, ready to offer the diamond earrings that were Declan’s wedding anniversary gift to her.
The woman handed her her ticket with a gentle grin. “There’s no need for that. You can have this. I’m Brenda White, by the way.”
“Oh my God! Thank you so much! I’m Caitlyn – Caitlyn Cooper. Trust me, I’ll forever be grateful to you!”
“You better get going,” the woman said. “Your flight takes off soon.”
“Of course, thank you!”
Caitlyn was over the moon, but her joy was short-lived when she was barred from the flight. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” the ground stewardess at the check-in counter said after checking her passport. “The name on your passport does not match the name on your ticket. You cannot board this flight.”
“Listen, you don’t understand! I need to see my baby!” Caitlyn screamed. “Please let me go! It’s urgent. I can’t afford to waste time here!”
Catilyn was stopped at the check-in counter. | Source: Unsplash
“Sorry, ma’am, but that’s the protocol. Please step back,” the staff member replied flatly.
Caitlyn was about to burst into tears when another member of the staff approached her. “You may go, ma’am,” she said. “We have received word about your situation, so it’s all good.”
Caitlyn was so panicked that she didn’t even wait to hear how she was suddenly allowed on the flight. She was just anxious to get home – to Declan and Eden.
Several hours later, she arrived home and saw a half-burnt structure standing in place of what used to be her home, with no sign of Eden and Declan.
Caitlyn went to Mrs. Louis’ house, shivering in horror as she wondered where her husband and child were.
Mrs. Louis consoled Caitlyn. | Source: Pexels
Mrs. Louis informed her that Declan and Eden were taken to the hospital immediately after the accident and were admitted there. Caitlyn rushed to the hospital and learned from doctors that their condition wasn’t bad, but they needed to be monitored for a while. It turned out there was a short circuit at their home, resulting in a fire.
Caitlyn couldn’t stop crying when she saw Eden and Declan wrapped in bandages and with bruises on their faces. But she was relieved that they were still alive and safe.
When they were discharged about two weeks later, they stayed at Mrs. Louis’ place while their house was being repaired. It was during that time that Caitlyn told Declan about how an elderly lady had helped her.
Declan suggested they thank her, so they started looking for her on Facebook. But when Caitlyn found her, she almost collapsed to the floor. The woman was the airline owner’s mother. She had posted several pictures with her son. No wonder the staff gave her a pass.
Declan and Catilyn messaged her via Facebook, wanting to thank her, and a few days later, they got a reply. Mrs. White arrived for dinner with a beautiful bouquet, having accepted their dinner invitation, and she got acquainted with not only Catilyn’s family but also Mrs. Louis. The families have been close to each other ever since.
What can we learn from this story?
- Family is your greatest treasure. When she learned Declan and Eden were in trouble, Caitlyn was ready to spare anything, ever her diamond earrings, just for a ticket back home.
- Always be there for your loved ones. Caitlyn always prioritized her family, and she was there for them when they needed her the most.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a woman who discovers a chest while digging in her backyard and opens it only 3 years later.
This account is inspired by our reader’s story and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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