That Bloody Ball ...

For the last 2 week - since the weather was warmer - the boys have been playing football in our residential car park. It’s quiet, not so many cars there. I don’t say it is safe even all the residents know and aware that children like to play in the car park. A car park is a car park, not the place you suppose to play football. But they didn't have anywhere else to play football, unless going to the park. The nearest one is about 10 minutes walk.

 

When they play football, they use our back wall as their goal post - perhaps because it is wider then the rest - and their ball often bounces into my garden crushes on my flowers or hit our glass sliding doors.

 

I have been trying to be nice and friendly to them. Every time the ball came into my garden, I got up went to the garden and threw their ball back over the wall. Sometimes after throwing the ball back - when I just got inside and sat on my comfy chair with my book - someone already knock again on my front door, "Excuse me, can I have my ball back please". Then I have to get up again. It's very annoying getting up and down, in and out of the house like being a slave of those boys. “It’s an act of charity Lies, don’t moan. A good exercise for you since you are getting fat”, I said to my self.

 

“Please try not throwing the ball on my garden again”, I said smiling after a few times being the ball picker.

“Sorry, it’s not me but ….” they always blamed other who’s not present. “He is there hiding” pointed to the place behind the wall. Hundreds times they said sorry but still that ball came to our garden.

 

Once I had an evil idea to throw that ball over the fence to a next-door garden, and let them knocking there. I’m sure Simone - who always put swearing word in every sentence she says - won’t be happy to share my job. She will kill them if those boys keep knocking on her door every couple minutes.

“Yes Mum, lets throw it to Simone’s”, said Saskia cheekily. O my God, what am I doing telling my kid my evil thought.

“No Darling, just kidding,” I said smiling and threw the ball over the wall.

“Thank you”, they shouted. Soon I heard the bouncing ball between muttering voices of the boys behind the wall. They sounded happy.

 

I looked at my garden, it’s hardly to be called a garden. The purple vinca minor and lilies were still in their pots just as they came from the garden centre. I was going to put them on the border but hasn’t got the time yet. Now those purple flowers were already ruined by the ball. Last Sunday I just started working in the garden, only managed cutting the shrubs of honey suckle that hanging down on the fence, weeding the border and tidying up the patio. We don’t have a lawn in the back but a small patio garden.

 

It was a lovely day; the weather was warm, the sky was bright, the sun shining. The breeze swayed my laundry on the washing line. I stood by the door to bring my washing in when suddenly …

“Bang”

“That bloody ball just hit my head”, I shouted, lying. Actually was only slightly on my hair before it hit the door.

“Sorry”, they said as I opened the gate and went outside. “Can I have my ball back please”, Those innocence eyes melted my heart. I wasn’t going to give their ball back but I did. Once again I warn them to play more gently.

"If your ball comes to my garden again once more, I'll give it to a charity shop." I said sternly before went back to the garden and locked the gate.

 

I just started picking up clothes when that bloody ball came back again hit me on my back. This time really hit me hard on my back. “Shit”, my heart racing, my blood rushed to my back neck, my face must be redden now and I was very angry. They were shouting asking their ball back. I ignore them, went inside. Then I heard a few times knocks on my door.

“Leave it Sas, don’t open it”, I said to Saskia when she was going to open the door. Enough is enough, this time I am not going to give their ball back.

 I stood at the front in the kitchen looking at the window, waiting for Mark coming home, going to tell him to park the car in the back, so if the boys got other ball they couldn’t use our back wall as the goal post again.

 

I went to the front door as I saw the aubergine Ford Escort crossing the road. Mark had already turned the engine off and walking out of the car. The boys were hanging in the alley.

“Can I have the ball back please”.

“No, ask your mother to get it. I’ll have a word with her”.

I didn’t really want to make a war with neighbours actually, just didn’t want to give the ball back.

“O please, it’s not me, it’s …..”, again blaming other. I ignore them. I didn’t care if they think I have turn into a wicked witch.

 

I welcome my husband with my face like I had been sucking a lemon. I told him that I’d been battered by the ball. He followed me in. I went to the kitchen, put the kettle on for his cuppa.

He went to the garden, took the ball and back to the front door.

“I won’t stop you from playing football, mates. I want to see you on the television one day. But please think about other people”, he said. How could he be so calm and giving that ball back after all we’d been through. I expected him to tell them off, rise his eye brows to form a wider eyes and speak firmly. But Mark can’t even do that to his own kids, he is always speak softly like a jelly.

I frowned, now I was like trying to make a war with my husband.

“You shouldn’t give that ball back”. I moaned, handing him a cup of cappuccino.

I was really frustrated with that bloody ball, couldn't even feeling safe being in our garden never mind having nice flowers.

 

Two days has passed. Yesterday the ball only twice went to our garden. The first one I threw it back over the wall without a word. The second ball coming, I left it and now still in our garden. No one has been knocking on the front door or shouting over the wall asking it back.

Today I haven’t seen a ball coming to our garden - not because it is the only ball they have, last time I found 4 balls in our garden - maybe that jelly talk of Mark works, or me being a wicked witch that works, I don’t know. I also don’t know how long it will last. But today I feel a bit relieved.