And standing next to it was Katherine.
I stared at her in disbelief.
Then I saw the truck’s chute.
Concrete was pouring directly into my swimming pool.
For several seconds, I couldn’t move.
Then I realized what was happening.
“She wouldn’t…”
But she had.
Katherine was having my pool filled with concrete.
My husband’s pool.
The pool he had built with his own hands.
The pool that represented years of memories.
And she was destroying it because she didn’t like the sound of my children playing.
I raced downstairs and ran outside.
“Katherine!”
She turned around.
Instead of looking frightened or embarrassed, she looked satisfied.
As if she had finally solved a problem.
“You’ve been warned,” she shouted.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“You can’t do this!”
“Oh, yes, I can,” she replied.
Then she pointed toward the pool.
“Now there will finally be some peace and quiet!”
I looked at the concrete pouring into the water.
My mind was racing.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to call the police.
I wanted to demand that she stop.
But something inside me told me that arguing with Katherine wasn’t going to accomplish anything.
People like her don’t stop because someone asks them politely.
They stop when they finally face consequences.
So I stood there.
I watched.
I watched as the concrete slowly filled the pool.
I watched as the water disappeared.