I’m Edwina, and at sixty, I thought I’d seen it all. My son, Ethan, and his wife, Blythe, live just a few blocks down. I visit them for Sunday dinner, though Blythe has never made me feel welcome.
One Sunday, I arrived to find their yard filled with life-sized witches that looked disturbingly like me. There was even a sign that read, “Beware of the real evil down the street!” Stunned, I took a deep breath and knocked on their door.
Blythe greeted me with a smile. “Edwina, you made it! Come in, dinner’s almost ready.” I forced a smile and mentioned the decorations, but she just laughed, clearly enjoying her little joke.
Throughout dinner, I felt her glances and smirks. I wanted to call her out, but I stayed silent, not giving her the satisfaction. The next day, while in my garden, I overheard kids whispering. “That’s her,” one said, pointing at me. “The witch. Mom says she’s real mean.”
My heart sank. Blythe’s joke had turned the neighborhood kids against me. Over the next week, they avoided me, some even crossing the street when they saw me.
Halloween, my favorite time of year, now felt bleak. I needed a plan, but I wouldn’t stoop to Blythe’s level. Instead, I decided to transform my yard into something cheerful. I decorated with big pumpkins, friendly ghosts, and a goofy scarecrow. I set up a candy station with warm cider and homemade cookies and arranged a mini pumpkin-painting table for the kids.
A yard decorated for Halloween with a scarecrow, friendly ghosts, and huge pumpkins | Source: Midjourney
On Halloween night, I dressed as a fairy godmother, complete with wings and a sparkly gown. As dusk fell, I opened my front door and called out, “Come on over! I’ve got magic treats waiting for you!”
A brave little girl, dressed as a princess, approached. I knelt down and offered her a sparkly wand. “You’re not a witch?” she asked. I laughed. “Nope, just a fairy godmother for the night.”
Soon, more kids came over, drawn by curiosity. Laughter filled the air as they painted pumpkins and enjoyed treats. One boy, dressed as a pirate, asked if I could turn him into a real pirate. I tapped his hat with my wand and whispered, “You’re the fiercest pirate in all the seas now!”
As the night continued, Blythe’s house sat quiet, with just a few stragglers. I caught sight of her on her porch, arms crossed, watching me with frustration. Our eyes met, and I gave her a small wave.
As the last kids left, one little girl looked up at me and said, “This was the best Halloween ever. Thank you, fairy godmother.”
I realized I didn’t need to confront Blythe. I just needed to show everyone who I really was — kind and magical. Kindness really can be the best payback.
