It all happened one Sunday at noon.
My son, in front of the whole family, stared at me and said shamelessly:
“Useless old man.”
I didn’t answer. I kept chewing slowly so they wouldn’t notice how my chest was tightening. But that insult stuck with me. I finished eating in silence, got up from the table, and went to my room.
That afternoon I spent thinking. I thought about my years of work, how I built that house brick by brick, how I raised my children always putting their plate before my own.
And I understood something painful: they no longer respected me.
So the next day I made a decision.
The new locks
I got up early, went to the hardware store, and bought new locks for the whole house. When I got back, while everyone was asleep, I changed them door by door.
When my son saw me kneeling in the doorway, he went white.
“What are you doing, Dad?”
“Fixing what was broken,” I replied without raising my voice.
When I finished, I gathered the family in the living room and said,
“From today on, anyone who wants to enter this house has to ask me. There aren’t enough keys for everyone anymore.”
No one responded. The silence spoke volumes.
Getting the house in order
That same week, I went to see a lawyer.
