Daniel and Elise eventually completed their home within their actual boundary, and we now exchange little more than an occasional nod. The driveway still curves through the pines exactly as it did before they arrived, yet I notice it differently each time I come home. Had I accepted Daniel’s suggestion and carved another route through the woods, his convenience would have quietly rewritten my property rights. Instead, the survey, court record, and demolition order preserved something that looked ordinary only because it had always been there. A road to one’s front door can seem insignificant until another person decides it is theirs to erase. The dispute cost time, money, and patience, but surrender would have cost something harder to recover. It would have taught an entitled neighbor that permanence belonged to whoever poured the concrete first.