The call came just after lunch. Grandma Harriet’s voice was steady, but I could hear the tremor underneath “Ellis, they’re digging into the hill. Part of it’s our land.” I pictured their place on the ridge—wind chimes Clarence hammered from old spoons, the oak he planted when my mom was born, the stone steps Harriet swept every morning, like a ritual. For forty years their only neighbor had been a steep, wild lot next door. Now it roared with engines. “Maybe they’re just close to the line,” I said, trying to sound practical. “I’ve walked that boundary since before you were born,” she replied. “They’ve cut our corner.” Grandpa Clarence was at the doctor. She didn’t want to worry him yet. By the time he got home, the damage wasn’t theoretical; it was carved into earth—a switchback driveway bulldozed clean across their property. Clarence, all calm curiosity, waved down the excavator operator. “Got a plot map? That bend is on our side,” he said…..CONTINUE READING IN BELOW
Neighbor Cut a Driveway Through My Grandparents’ Yard Without Permission — But Grandpa’s Clever Move Made Him Pay Dearly
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