My name is Amy. My boyfriend, Zach, and I moved into our new house last November. Our neighbors are a single mother, Sarah, and her two boys, Richard and Bill, ages seven and twelve. When we first moved in, Sarah was very kind and welcoming, and her sons would sometimes say hello. It didn’t last long.
The house and neighborhood are lovely, but we haven’t had much sunny weather lately. Recently, however, the weather has improved, and we’ve had a few warm days. A few weekends ago, Zach and I were enjoying a particularly sunny day, sitting in our backyard. We could hear Sarah’s kids playing in the neighboring yard. We didn’t mind until a stream of water came over the fence and hit me right in the face.
A house in a quiet neighborhood | Source: Pexels
“Zach!” I shouted, wiping the water from my eyes.
Zach looked up, confused. “What is it?”
“Water,” I said, my eyes burning. “Why is there water coming out of nowhere?”
Water is sprayed | Source: Pexels
Just then, another jet of water came over the fence, hitting our garden furniture and plants. We rushed to bring our books and the rest of our little picnic inside before everything got soaked.
As water continued to fly over the fence at regular intervals, I decided to go upstairs to see what was happening on Sarah’s side. Through the window, I saw her two boys with huge water pistols, aiming over the fence and watering our garden.
A boy with water guns | Source: Unsplash
I hurried back downstairs. “Zach, it’s Rich and Bill with water guns! And they’re still doing it!”
Zach was already at the fence, calling out. “Richard! Bill! Please stop spraying water around here!”
The boys fell silent and disappeared. But no more than two minutes later, just as Zach was drying himself and going to get his book from the kitchen, they started again. The jets of water were incessant.
Boys playing with a water gun | Source: Pexels
I sighed. “This is getting ridiculous.”
Zach nodded. “I’m going to go talk to Sarah.”
He walked over to Sarah’s front door and knocked. After a moment, she answered, looking flustered.
“Hello, Zach,” she said. “Is everything okay?”
Man knocking on a door | Source: Pexels
“Hi, Sarah,” Zach replied. “The boys are spraying water over the fence into our backyard. Can you ask them to stop?”
Sarah frowned. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’ll talk to them right away.”
Zach went back into our yard. “She said she was going to talk to them.”
I nodded, hoping that would be the end of it. But a few minutes later, the water jets started again.
A frustrated woman | Source: Pexels
“It’s amazing,” I muttered. “They don’t stop.”
Zach sighed. “Maybe I should try talking to the boys directly.”
He went back to the fence and called again. “Richard, Bill, please stop spraying water in our garden. It’s not nice.”
The boys’ voices drifted away. “But it’s fun!” said Richard.
Angry woman | Source: Pexels
“We’re just playing!” added Bill.
Zach tried to stay calm. “I understand, but it’s getting our furniture and plants wet. Please find something else to do.”
There was a brief silence. “Okay,” Richard said reluctantly.
We waited, listening. For a moment, it seemed like they had finally stopped. But then, another jet of water gushed over the fence.
A boy playing with a water gun | Source: Pexels
I threw my hands up in frustration. “What do we do now?”
Zach looked thoughtful. “Maybe we need to talk to Sarah again. She seemed understanding earlier.”
We were both frustrated by the boys who kept spraying water over the fence. This time, I went to their house and rang the doorbell. Sarah answered, and I told her that her kids kept spraying water over our fence. I thought she’d be understanding like she had been with Zach, but she seemed genuinely offended.
Woman arguing | Source: Pexels
“Amy, you’re overreacting,” she said, crossing her arms. “These are just kids acting like kids.”
I tried to explain further, but she cut me off. “Look, I’m going to tell them to stop again, but I’m not going to police my children playing. It’s just water; it won’t do any damage.”
Women in an argument | Source: Pexels
I have to admit I’m not much for confrontations. I thought she’d be nice, but her answer left me stunned. So I froze. Sarah waited a second, then closed the door, and I went home.
Zach and I decided to watch a movie instead, but before we closed our back door for the day, I noticed the water had destroyed my string of lights that hung over our patio table. With a sigh, I left it hanging and went inside.
A garland with lights | Source: Pexels
A few days after this confrontation, I decided to invite all the neighbors to a garden party. I told everyone it was a water gun party for the kids, but I didn’t tell Sarah. When Sarah arrived, she was dressed to the nines, wearing makeup and a cocktail dress. As soon as she stepped into the garden, the kids instantly targeted her, leaving her soaking wet.
“What the hell is going on?” Sarah jumped, looking around in shock.
A woman in a dress | Source: Pexels
“Oh, it’s just water,” I said, trying to suppress a smile. “It doesn’t do any damage. I must have forgotten to tell you to bring casual clothes.”
Sarah looked humiliated and quickly left the party. The children continued to play, and everyone else seemed to be having fun. I felt a little guilty but relieved that the boys weren’t causing any more trouble.
Children playing with water guns | Source: Pexels
Suddenly, Sarah came back, now wearing casual clothes and holding a new string of lights. She walked straight towards me.
“Here,” she said, handing me the garland. “It’s so dark in here; maybe now the boys will see better who they’re splashing water on.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at her casual way of handling the problem. “Thanks, Sarah. I appreciate it.”
Woman holding a string of lights | Source: Pexels
Sarah nodded and smiled. “No hard feelings, okay? Kids can be difficult, but they don’t mean any harm.”
“Sure,” I said, feeling the tension ease. “Let’s enjoy the party.”
The rest of the evening went smoothly. The kids played with their water guns, and the adults chatted and laughed. As the sun set and the new fairy lights twinkled, Sarah and I really got to know each other.
A backyard party | Source: Pexels
“You know, I might have overreacted the other day. It’s just been hard to handle everything on my own.”
“I understand,” I said. “We all have tough times. Honestly, I admire you for raising the boys on your own. And they’re good kids.”
She smiled, and we clinked glasses together. Her boys were having a blast, excuse the pun, with their water guns, and Zach and I even got to meet some of the other neighbors.
Two women talking | Source: Pexels
And, to be honest, this is exactly the close-knit neighborhood we were looking for. And I have a pair of rascals with water pistols to thank for that.
How would you have handled this situation?
Here’s another story you might like:
My new neighbors vandalized me, so my only son helped me teach them a lesson.
After Maureen loses her husband, her son encourages her to move closer to him and his family. So she packs up her life and moves to a neighborhood closer to him. But as she settles in, she realizes that people aren’t as friendly as they seem. Can Maureen win them over, or will she have to move again?
Imagine yourself in the twilight of your life, in a new place – without your husband who has lived with you for 50 years.
Recently, my husband, William, passed away, leaving me in our big house in Virginia. I’ve been here a long time, and I’ve been heartbroken about many things. But nothing prepares you for losing your spouse.
An elderly couple standing on a road | Source: Pexels
“Mom, please,” my son, Mark, said to me over the phone. “I need you to consider moving. Come and be closer to us—the kids will love having you here.”
“I don’t want to lose my independence, son,” I replied. “Your father and I promised not to get involved in your life like that.”
“You don’t have to live with me,” he chuckled. “I’ll find you a place nearby. I’ll start looking and send you some options. Okay? Please, Mom.”
A man talking on the phone | Source: Pexels
I had to give in. At seventy, and although I felt absolutely fine and healthy, I didn’t know if living alone, so far from Mark, was a good idea.
“All right,” I said. “You can start looking, and I’ll start sorting through here.”
When William died, a part of me did the same. The world suddenly felt less alive, the days seemed longer, and the silence in our house became suffocating.
Flowers on a closed coffin | Source: Unsplash
I spent my evenings in the kitchen, baking new batches of cookies—more than I could eat, which prompted me to send them to my neighbors.
We were all extremely close, and William and I often hosted parties for everyone in our garden.
“Are you really going to leave us, Maureen?” my neighbor and close friend, Shelley, said to me.
“It’s not set in stone,” I replied, pouring us cups of tea. “But it makes more sense for me to be with Mark. I’m getting old.”
“Then you need to throw another legendary party before you go,” Shelley said with a smile.
Read more here .
This work is inspired by real events and people, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the story. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims regarding the accuracy of events or character portrayals and are not responsible for any misinterpretations. This story is provided “as is,” and all opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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