My phone rang constantly during those first few days 📞. Marian called to ask where the gardening gloves were, how deep to plant the rows, and where the irrigation hoses connected. I answered politely, keeping my instructions brief, but offered zero physical help from two hundred miles away.
By the fourth day, Doina started calling my cell phone directly 📱. She complained that Marian was taking too long and that the rows looked crooked and disorganized. I gently reminded her that since she was benefiting from the harvest, she was more than welcome to pick up a shovel and help him.
She gasped in offense and hung up on me immediately 😤. It became clear very quickly that without my unpaid labor, the entire family dynamic was beginning to fracture under the weight of reality. Neither of them actually wanted to do the heavy lifting required to feed a household for free.
When I finally returned home two weeks later, the backyard was an absolute disaster zone 🌾. Marian had managed to till only a tiny fraction of the land before giving up out of sheer physical exhaustion. The three original sacks of seed potatoes were still sitting near the garage, sprouting long pale roots in the shade.
