"WYATT, GET OVER HERE!!! RIDE YOUR BIKE!"
"HUNTER, SHUT UP, I'M NOT TALKING TO YOU!"
We live in the country. It's supposed to be peaceful and quiet out here, right? *laughs to self*
The neighbor that lives across the street had better be glad we're Christians. She had better be glad that the other neighbors next to us are hard of hearing, and sight. She had better be glad that I don't personally own any kind of useful weapon.
Incessently her radio is going, but even more incessently her fat mouth is going. She will not shut up. She lives with her husband, and his son, (whom she completely ignores) and their two sons together. R.J., the eldest (her stepson) is such a sweetheart. He's 10 and such a brother to me, but I swear if there was ever a "wicked stepmother" she is it! She's grounded him for wetting the bed before, and I'm not talking one day; he gets grounded for weeks at a time. His room is in the basement, and other than school, meals and our house, that's where he lives. She doen't love him. Infact, I don't think she loves her own little boys. If memory serves correctly my dad called social services one time about it. They said there's nothing they can do. R.J.'s dad let's his wife take over in the diciplinary department. He has no say, really. She had better be glad that R.J.'s an easy kid... he really is. And I think he loves her. He doesn't adore her, but he loves her. If I could give him anything I'd give him his parents' love. And I'd most definetly take away the hate.
The two youngest ones get treated far, far worse than I treat my least favourite animal. It not only affects them, but anyone within a 3 mile radius. Hunter and Wyatt are their names. What lovely names, eh? *cough cough* They're outside a lot with her, as she makes her yard perfect. Her radio blares, and on top of that all I hear is "WYATT, STOP THAT! GET OVER HERE! HUNTER, YOU'RE SO NAUGHTY!!!" I wonder if they ever once heard those sweet three words, every child needs to hear, everyday. They're immune. Her shouting doesn't phase them a bit anymore. They're only 2 and 4 years old, but they've gotten over it, it seems. It's sad, it really is. I wonder what she'll do when they're teenagers.
"She must be the most unhappy person in the world," my mom said the other day, and it's true. She's admitted that when she gets angry she cleans. She honestly has an obsessive compulsive cleaning disorder. You will not find one speck of dirt or dust in their house. No papers out of place, no dishes unwashed. She rarely smiles, and when she does it's all for show.
When we drive by or are outside she must feel compelled to wave. Obviously she doesn't feel it though. She doesn't look up from her yardwork, but throws her hand up in air, stiffly, for a moment only. I've stopped waving. She doesn't care. My smiling face doesn't matter to her, it never did. I want to pray for her and show her God's love. I want her to be happy, but she doesn't even look at us. She assumes we wave, I suppose.
I want to scream. I try to be kind, but it's so hard. Ignoring her is working best right now, and even that takes work. I usually don't have a short temper, but I'd love to go over there and tell her to shut up one of these days. Just smack her one! What I'd love to do even more is take those boys away from her and give them some love.
Sarah
