My name is Erzsébet Kovács, I’m sixty years old, and if I can proudly say anything about my life, it’s that I have a small vegetable garden in the backyard. I have what they call a „green thumb”: neighbors often joke, „Aunt Bözsi, tomatoes would grow even on a nail planted in the wall!” And they’re not exaggerating: whatever I sow soon blossoms and bears fruit.
For me, the garden has never been just soil and plants. It’s my refuge, my corner of peace. Every morning, with a cup of coffee in my hand, I would stop to contemplate my peppers, cucumbers, strawberries, and that peach tree that I cared for like a treasure.
But my life wasn’t always so serene. Twelve years ago, I lost my husband, Imre, and for a while I thought nothing held me back in this world.
Later, my daughter Andrea and her husband Tamás took me into their home after I sold mine. I was grateful to them: they worked tirelessly, and I took care of the three grandchildren, took them to school, cooked, washed, and maintained the household routine.
Over time, Andrea noticed I was missing something.
„Mom,” she said to me one afternoon, „why don’t you plant something in that vacant lot next door? It only creates weeds… and I know how much you miss gardening.”
I felt my eyes sparkle. „Would they really let me?”
Tamás smiled. „Of course! This way we’ll eat fresh vegetables, and it will be good for you.”
Thus, my little „miniature paradise” was born. In no time, that lot was covered with tomatoes, cucumbers, peas, lettuce, and even a peach tree. The children ran happily around me, helped water it, and, of course, stole some fruit from time to time.
I remember one afternoon in June: little Panni came jumping up and down excitedly.
„Grandma!” „Let’s make a strawberry cake!” she shouted, her braids bouncing.
„Hmm… I don’t know…” I pretended to hesitate. „Have you done your homework yet?”
Her smile faltered, but then returned with a vengeance. „I’ll do it right now!”
„Okay,” I replied with a wink, „but then you can help me pick the strawberries.”
Our days went by like this, until a strange detail began to worry me.
First, a cucumber disappeared, then a pepper. I thought I’d have picked it myself and forgotten about it. But then the day came when I discovered the peach tree empty: not a single fruit remained.
„Andrea!” I called desperately. „Did you pick the peaches?”
She came out confused. „No, Mom. Why?”
„Because someone took them all!”
„Maybe the kids? Or Tamás?”
„I already asked.” No one touched them.
„What if it was animals? Squirrels, birds…”
„No, Andrea. This wasn’t the work of animals. There’s a human hand here.”
Her face darkened. „You mean… a thief?”
I nodded firmly.
Confirmation soon came. One morning, as I entered the garden, I discovered ripe tomatoes, cucumbers, and peppers gone. Only the green ones remained. Tamás installed cameras that same night.
Reviewing the footage, the image left me speechless: it was our newly arrived neighbor, Ilona Nagy, who, at night, was collecting my fruits and vegetables with a bag.
Andrea didn’t believe it. „Ilona? The one who lives two doors down?”
I nodded, furious.
„Do you want me to go and tell her what I think?” Tamás exclaimed.
I calmly raised my hand. „No. I have a better plan.”
The next day, I prepared a basket of stewed beans and an apple pie. I went to knock on Ilona’s door. Her son opened it uncomfortably and immediately called for his mother.
When she saw me, she paled.
„Erzsi?”
I held up the basket and smiled. „I brought you dinner. I thought maybe you were hungry… since you visit my garden so often.”
She blushed, then went white, and stammered. „I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
„Come on, don’t be shy,” I said gently. „This dish is made with exactly what you love to pick from my garden.”
She closed the door in my face, but I wasn’t done there.
The next day, I spoke to our other neighbor, Margit.
„I’m worried about Ilona,” I sighed. „I caught her stealing from my garden. Maybe she’s going through hardship…”
„Poor thing!” Margit exclaimed.
„I thought we could help her: bring her food, desserts. That way she’ll understand she doesn’t need to steal.”
Margit happily agreed, and soon the whole street knew the story. For three days, Ilona’s doorstep was filled with neighbors bringing her plates and baskets. I, behind my curtains, watched it all with a smile.
Finally, her husband, Béla, came to apologize. „Mrs. Erzsi, we’re sorry… how can we make it up to you?”
„Come help me in the garden,” I replied calmly.
And so they did. Ilona and Béla pulled weeds, watered, and tied up plants under my gaze. She, uncomfortable, also planted in her own garden.
„You see, Ilona?” I said, smiling. „The fruits taste sweeter when you grow them with your own hands.”
She nodded reluctantly.
And we both learned: she, that it’s not worth stealing; I, who sometimes find the best revenge kindness… with a little mischief