Meanwhile, I returned to the cottage. Each evening, I sat on the porch and listened to the wind moving through the trees. I planted new flowers, painted the shutters, and tended the garden the way my mother once did.
The peace there was unlike anything I’d ever known.
She hadn’t left me less. She had left me enough — enough love, enough wisdom, enough space to start again.
The Gift That Money Can’t Buy
In the quiet weeks that followed, I realized something my mother had always tried to teach me:
Real wealth isn’t measured by money or property. It’s measured by peace, gratitude, and the ability to love without expecting anything in return.
My brother and aunts may have inherited her fortune, but I inherited something far greater — her heart, her legacy, her belief that kindness outlasts greed.
Now, every morning when sunlight filters through the curtains and the scent of lavender fills the air, I whisper, “Thank you, Mom.”
Because she gave me the only inheritance that truly matters — a home built not on money, but on love that never fades.
