That night I forced my son and daughterinlaw out of the house and took their keys: the moment finally came when I realizedenough.
A week has passed and I still cant belief what I did. I kicked out my own son and his wife from my home. And guess what? I feel not a shred of remorse. It was the limit, and they drove me to that choice.
It all began six months ago. I came home from work, exhausted as usual, just wanting a cup of tea and some quiet. In the kitchen I found my son, Rui, and his wife, Beatriz. She was slicing cheese, he was seated at the table reading the newspaper, as if nothing were wrong, and he smiled:
Hello, Mum! We decided to drop by!
At first it seemed harmless. Im always happy to see Rui. But then I realized it wasnt a visit; it was a takeover. No warning, no request. They walked into my house and made themselves at home.
They had been evicted from the flat they rentedthey hadnt paid rent for six months. I had already warned them: dont live beyond your means! Find something smaller, live more modestly. Yet they wanted a central Lisbon apartment, newly renovated, with a balcony view. When everything fell apart, they ran back to their mothers house.
Mum, well stay just a week. I promise Im looking for a placeRui insisted.
Like a fool I believed them. I thought a week was no big deal. Were family; I have to help. If only Id known where it would lead family games.
One week passed, then another, then three months. No one was searching for a new home. Instead they settled as if the house belonged to them. They never asked, never helped, never contributed. And Beatriz my God, how wrong I was about her.
She didnt cook, didnt clean. She spent days with friends, and when she was at home she lounged on the sofa with her phone. Id come home, make dinner, wash the dishes, while she behaved like a hotel guestdidnt even rinse her own glass.
One day, gently, I suggested they might take on a side job to ease things. Their reply was swift:
We know what were doing. Thanks for the concern.
I was paying their water, electricity, gas. They contributed nothing. They even sparked arguments whenever something didnt suit them. Every word I said turned into a storm.
Then, a week ago, late at night, I lay awake while the TV blared in the living room and Rui and Beatriz laughed loudly. I had to be up at six. I got up and said:
Are you going to sleep or not? I need to get up early!
Mum, dont startRui replied.
Dona Maria, dont make a sceneBeatriz added, without even looking at me.
That was the final straw.
Pack your things. Youre not staying tomorrow.
What?
You heard me. Get out, or Ill help you pack.
As I turned to leave, Beatriz let out a giggle. That was her mistake. I grabbed three large bags and started stuffing their belongings inside. They tried to stop me, pleaded, but it was too late.
Either you leave now, or Ill call the police.
Half an hour later the bags were in the hallway. I took their keys. No tears, no regretjust irritation and blame. I didnt care. I shut the door, locked it, and sat down. For the first time in six months, I was silent.
Where they went, I dont know. Beatriz has parents, friends, always a couch to fall on. Im sure they didnt end up on the streets.
I have no regrets. I did what had to be done. This is my home, my castle, and I wont let anyone trample it with dirty feetnot even my son.
Sometimes saying no is the greatest act of love, because only those who respect themselves can truly respect others.
