I was always trained by my mother to treat other people with kindness and to assist them wherever I could. It was her assertion that compassion is free of charge yet may mean everything. I had always made an effort to be guided by that philosophy. However, there was one choice that I made as a result of following her counsel that I regret more than anything else in my life.

It was a typical Wednesday morning when the local news station abruptly cut itself off in the middle of its program to provide critical weather warnings. Due to the fact that a terrible storm was going directly at the city, the authorities highly recommended that everyone leave the city as soon as they could.

There wasn’t much of a need to convince me. Just before the rain began, I made sure to pack a small overnight bag, make reservations at a hotel in the vicinity, and then go.

Within the confines of my hotel room, I watched news video of the streets that I was so familiar with transforming into rivers. The automobiles passed by like toys. I continued to pray under my breath, hoping that my house would be spared significant damage and that it would be able to survive.

After what seemed like an eternity, I arrived home the next afternoon, and to my relief, my house was still standing. Only a few inches of water was present in the basement, but it was not anything that a sump pump and a repairman couldn’t manage. Following a single day, it seemed as if the floods had never taken place.

It was unfortunate that the house of my neighbor had not been as fortunate.

It was two homes down from where Mr. Leonard Whitaker resided. It was a guy in his early sixties who was tall but somewhat bent, with gray hair that was beginning to thin out and a frown that never left his face. His windows were smashed, portion of his roof had caved in, and pieces of his siding had been pulled away by the storm. His roof had also partly caved in. The location gave off the impression that it had been in the center of a conflict zone.

Leonard had never been one to socialize with others. I had lived in this house for five years, and throughout that time I had never had a wife, children, or even friends come to visit. As if it were infectious, he avoided making small chat with his neighbors and avoided making eye contact with everyone else.

I saw him strolling about the ruins of his yard on that particular day, mumbling under his breath and seemed to be completely at a lost. As a result, I couldn’t help but feel terrible for him. Nobody was there to assist him. In addition, I could hear my mother’s voice in my head saying, “Help those who are unable to help themselves.”

I moved up to him and gave him a little touch on the shoulder.

He reacted as if I had poked him with a cattle prod and leaped backwards. It is the Lord! “What exactly do you believe you are doing?” He made a barking sound.

My attempt to seem nice was successful, and I added, “It’s just me — your neighbor, Julia.”

No matter who you are, I don’t care. Do you know why you are on my property? His voice was abrasive and defensive in nature.

I forced myself to ignore my nausea. During the time that your home is being restored, I would like to make you an offer to stay at my property. I am out for the most of the day, so you would have privacy in my spare room. I have a spare room.

The look on his face became somewhat more kind. “Seriously?”

It is true. We won’t have any problems,” I reassured him.

The only thing he did was turn around and go back inside his wrecked home. He did not answer. There was a little pause during which I stood there, uncertain as to whether he had accepted or refused my offer.

After a half an hour, the doorbell at my house rang.

Upon opening the door, I saw Leonard standing there with a leather luggage that had seen better days.

“All right,” he said, “is everything prepared to go?”

I confessed, “I… wasn’t sure you’d decided to stay,” and I was right.

“I thought I made myself clear,” he said in an irritated manner as he continued to push by me into the foyer.

During the time that I was directing him to the guest room located on the first floor, he pushed his bag into my hands before I could even put it down. “This is it. That can be carried by you.”

In order for him to make the bed, I told him, “I will bring you new towels and bedding so that you can make the bed.”

No, I’m not going to make the bed. “You are the woman in this situation,” he mumbled.

I was staring at him, torn between astonishment and annoyance at the same time. “When you’re at home, don’t you make your own bed?”

“Of course, when I’m by myself. On the other hand, I am now a visitor,” he said, as if this was the answer to every question.

I thought to myself that he was probably under a lot of stress and was not accustomed to depending on anybody, so I forced myself to smile politely and went to fetch the linens. However, over a few days, I acknowledged that this was not only stress; rather, it was who he was.

It was like being trapped in a comedy that was created by someone who detested women. Living with Leonard was like that.

Watching television at a high volume till two or three in the morning, he remained up until that time. He never cleaned up after himself, which resulted in filthy dishes being stacked up in the sink, and he dispersed his possessions over every surface.

“You’re a woman” became his reason for everything, from refusing to do laundry to leaving socks in the middle of the living room. He started repeating this statement to justify everything he did.

Even though I continued going over the same counsel that my mother had given me in my brain, my tolerance was becoming dangerously thin.

An evening when I was preparing roast chicken and potatoes, which were his favorite dish but not mine, was the moment when I finally broke down. I was always under his watchful eye in the kitchen, and he was critical of every action I took, from the way I seasoned the meat to the way I sliced the veggies.

When I was reaching for a jar of paprika that was located on the highest shelf, my head came into contact with the range hood. There was something gentle and wet that landed on my hair.

It turned out to be one of Leonard’s soiled socks.

“What on earth is going on?!” Then I let out a scream and hurled it all over the kitchen.

Leonard showed up by himself. “What is the issue that you are having? My headache is becoming worse.”

“What possessed you to put your sock on the exhaust fan?” I made a demand.

I was able to remove it since I had trodden on something that was moist before. The floor was probably your responsibility since you did not clean it properly,” he added, completely unaffected by the situation.

Is it my fault? One octave was added to my voice. I took you in, Leonard, so that you wouldn’t have to sleep in your ruined home. I really appreciate that. It was not my intention to serve as your maid!

It’s a lady, for sure. “Take care of the housework,” he remarked in a matter-of-fact manner.

Yes, that was it. I had just about reached the end of my patience. Pack up your belongings. Even tonight, you are going to go.

Although he attempted to dispute, I was already in the process of packing his belongings into his luggage.

“Would you just kick me out of the house like this?” He made a yell.

“You have accomplished nothing except insulting me and treating me as if I were a servant. Since you do not value generosity, it is safe to say that you will be going.

With the intention of tossing it into the bag, I took a decorative bottle that contained a model ship that he had brought with him. However, he seized it from my hands as if it were made of gold.

The witch warned, “Don’t you dare touch that!” It was a roar.

Not only was I stunned by his comments, but I was also taken aback by the quick appearance of tears in his eyes. I froze.

A little paper tag, written in a childlike handwriting, was fastened to the neck of the bottle. It said, “Dad and I’s masterpiece.”

What is your child’s name? I inquired in a low voice.

He mumbled, “It has nothing to do with how you feel.”

Why, therefore, have I never seen them coming to visit? “After the storm, why did you not choose to stay with your family?”

He had his jaw clinched. Due to the fact that I damaged everything.

When he spoke to me about his kid, Matthew, he did it in a tone that was more dejected than furious.

When Matthew was still a little child, Leonard’s wife abandoned him and took the youngster out of the house. Even after Matthew had entered high school, they continued to see each other on a regular basis. During that time, Matthew shared with his father his desire to pursue a career in dancing.

In an admission, Leonard said, “I told him that it wasn’t manly.” He was given the option of either dancing or me. Dancing was his choice. Forty-five years have passed since I last saw him.

A quarter of a century? “I said, utterly shocked.” “For the past fifteen years, you have tried to avoid your own son because you did not approve of the career path he chose?”

Leonard wore a sigh. If I had the opportunity to do it all over again, perhaps I would approach it differently. Oh, I have no idea.”

Then you should go meet him,” I encouraged. “He could have children by this point.”

“He won’t be interested in having a conversation with me.”

My response was, “Not if you continue to avoid him.” “Here’s the deal: if you behave like a nice human being, you will be allowed to remain in this location. We’ll get rid of you if you make one more sexist statement.

In the days that followed, I found that I was unable to stop thinking about his kid. In the end, I was able to locate Matthew and make my way to his residence, but I was uncertain about what I would say.

In addition to being tall, slender, and gorgeous, the guy who answered the door had an air of elegance that could only be attributed to someone who was a performer.

“Shall I call you Matthew Whitaker?” I inquired about it.

“It is now Matthias Cole. You want what, don’t you? in a resolute manner.

The phrase “I am your father’s neighbor”

“I am not interested.” He started to shut the door behind him.

Hold on! Could you just give me five minutes?

Following a brief period of observation of me, he exited the building. “That’s fine. Talk about it.”

I told him everything, including about the storm, about Leonard staying with me, and about his sadness over the conflict that terminated their relationship. We went to a park in the neighborhood, where I filled him in on everything.

Not only did we discuss Leonard, but we also discussed Matthew’s job, my own work, and life in general. Our conversation lasted for more than an hour. He was kind and humorous, which was a far cry from the stern father who had brought him up.

After we had returned to his residence, Matthew made the following statement: “I will meet with him with two conditions.” First, he is required to come to me. You are going to go on a date with me, two.”

My cheeks began to feel warm. It’s a deal.

In the morning of the next day, I entered Leonard’s room while carrying a ship-in-a-bottle kit.

What exactly was he referring to?

This is your opportunity to have a positive relationship with your kid. Get ready, because we are going to meet up with him.

There is no way I’m going anywhere!

“You are correct, really. Your regret for not trying will be greater than your remorse for being rejected.

Leonard was still standing on Matthew’s doorstep an hour later, despite the fact that he had raised objections. I saw them exchanging an uncomfortable welcome when I was sitting in my vehicle. After Leonard had delivered him the gear, they started conversing in a tentative manner.

They were working on the model ship together at the kitchen table two hours later, and the sound of laughing mixed with the sound of glasses being clinked together with each other.

The advice that my mother gave me returned to me once more: Always assist people who are in need.

And for the first time in my life, I discovered that I had made the proper choice.