**Part 3**
I called a real-estate agent and asked for a valuation; I was thinking of selling.
On Sunday, Sarah’s parents came for dinner. Halfway through the meal David set down his fork. “Mom, Sarah and I have been discussing your future. You’re getting older. This house is too much for you.” Sarah added that they had found a wonderful community called Sunset Pines, and that they could stay and “maintain” the house so it would remain in the family.
I agreed that we should no longer live together. Then I placed a signed real-estate agreement on the table. The house would go on the market the following week. I had already found a bright, modern condo with no guest rooms. They had thirty days to leave.
David protested that the house was supposed to be his inheritance. I corrected him: his father had left it to me, and I was still very much alive.
Three weeks later they moved into a two-bedroom apartment. The house sold above asking price. The next month I moved into my new condo — no oversized yard, no unnecessary bedrooms, no one rearranging my furniture or expecting breakfast or laundry.
One Sunday morning on my balcony with chamomile tea, I thought again about the word David had used. For months they had made me feel like a weight. The truth was simpler: I had not been the burden. I had been the one carrying them. Putting that weight down finally felt like freedom.
THE END
