The Neighbor’s Kids Cleaned Our Street Every Sunday – Their Real Motive Left Me Speechless
Neighbor’s Kids Were Cleaning Our Street Every Sunday – When I Found Out What They Were Truly Doing, I Was at Loss for Words
I believed for months that I had struck gold when I got to know my neighbor’s children, two adolescents who took pride in their Sunday morning street cleanups, treating it as though they were vying for public office. However, I soon discovered that their “good deeds” weren’t what they looked to be when I noticed one of them hiding something under a bush.
For months, I believed that the Sunday street cleanups by the neighbor’s children were a great idea. I’m a sixtysomething woman who has seen a lot in this neighborhood.
The good, the ugly, and everything in between, but what could be more relatable than two teens who are just out of middle school and spend their weekends picking up trash and sweeping sidewalks? That, however, gave me optimism for the coming generation.
I used to sit by the window on Sunday mornings with a cup of tea, watching them work outside as they carried trash bags, pushed brooms, and kept the area tidy. It impressed me.
They brought back memories of my own children at a younger age, before they left to grow up and move away. It was nearly… praiseworthy.
When I was watering my plants one morning, I noticed Grace, their mother, leaving her home. She was probably off to work because she was always in a rush.
“Grace!” I waved and yelled out. “I must remark that your children are doing an excellent job cleaning up the neighborhood. You ought to be pleased!”
Grace hesitated, her attitude oddly conveying that I had just uttered something that was off-putting to her. But then she gave me a kind grin. “Oh, yeah… thank you, they’re… good kids.”
Her voice seemed strange to me, but I ignored it. At the moment, I didn’t give it any thought. I assumed she was simply rushing, possibly running late for work.
I continued to observe them over the coming weeks; I believe their names were Becky and Sam. They were working harder than most children their age. I saw them every Sunday morning.
They graciously declined my offer of lemonade once, stating they had “things to finish up.” They were so sophisticated for their age, I recall thinking.
A odd event happened on Sunday. Becky and Sam were going about their daily business as usual, with their heads down and their routinely moving along the street. As I observed via my window, I became aware of something strange.
Sam was doing more than pick up litter. Instead, he was crouched down close to the large oak tree in front of my house, clearing some leaves from the way and gingerly putting something beneath a shrub.
I tried to look more clearly through the window by squinting, but I was unable to see anything. Despite its nature, it didn’t appear to be garbage. He even gave off the impression of being nearly shy about it, peeking over his shoulder as he got up to go to the next door.
I sat there with a grimace on my face as my curiosity overcame me. What could he possibly be concealing beneath a bush?
I chose to hold off until they were done. I was not going to give up on this. I had spent more than 30 years living in this neighborhood, after all. I could tell when things didn’t feel quite right, and this felt particularly strange.
I put on my gardening gloves and padded out the front door as the children vanished around the corner. I made my way toward the bush beside the sidewalk, letting the cold breeze tousle my hair.
I knelt down and pushed Sam’s leaf pile to one side. Even at my age, there’s something exciting about solving a mystery, so my heart skipped a beat or two.
And then it was there.
Money. Changes loose, strewn about and concealed by foliage. Dime, quarter, and even a few gleaming pennies. I scowled as my thoughts raced. How in the world were they concealing money in that manner?
I got up and took a look around. I couldn’t stop now that I understood what to search for. I began looking beneath more shrubs, pushing stones aside, and peeping around edges of the pavement. Once more, there it was — further coins.
concealed in the corner close to the storm drain, tucked behind the street sign, and even between the curb’s bricks. Nor was it merely a few pennies here and there. By the time I finished, I had collected about five bucks.
“Why in the world would they be hiding money instead of picking up trash?” I muttered to myself as I paced the walkway back and forth.
For a few period, I remained there, gazing at the pennies in my hand while my mind raced with potential solutions. Were they planning anything? Were they keeping the cash hidden from other people?
As I was still trying to process what I had learned, I encountered Grace again later that afternoon. She was taking goods out of her car this time.
I reasoned that this was my opportunity to investigate whatever bizarre game her kids were engaged in. With the coins in my pocket still rattling, I strode across the street.
“Grace!” I said, beckoning her closer.
She shocked me by looking up, but she also smiled a little. “Well, hello there. Everything all right?”
Trying to appear casual, I managed a laugh, but the question was on the tip of my lips. “Yeah, I just wanted to mention again how thoughtful your kids are, you know… cleaning up the street every week.”
Grace knitted her brow, as if she were truly perplexed. “Wiping the sidewalk? How do you mean?
I blinked in surprise. “You know, every Sunday they go out there and sweep and pick up trash… I can constantly see them outside my window.”
She had a momentary expression of pure confusion before a delayed realization registered on her face. She clutched her sides as she erupted into laughter. “Oh, no, no, no, they’re not cleaning!”
It was my time to be perplexed now. “Wait, what?”
She wiped a tear from her eye and said, “They’re on a treasure hunt!” in between spasms of laughing. Every Sunday, their grandfather hides pennies for them to find throughout the neighborhood. They’ve been playing this small game for years. They’re looking for treasure, not rubbish to pick up.”
I was frozen in place as I tried to take in what she was saying. “A treasure hunt? Are you saying that for several months, I believed they were being good neighbors and tidying up the streets, and all they’ve been doing is playing a game?”
Grace nodded and smiled. “Exactly. When they were tiny, my dad used to entertain them on Sundays by doing this. They search for the few coins he hides throughout the morning, including quarters, dimes, and occasionally even a $1 bill.”
With my jaw agape, I gazed at her. “So… all this time, I’ve been watching them, thinking they were the most responsible kids on the block, and really, they were just hunting for coins?”
Grace smiled and nodded. “Yep, that’s about right.”
I sighed deeply as I leaned against the fence, and then I started laughing. I was laughing so hard I was almost falling down. “All right, I will be! I saw them as these adorable little neighborhood saints doing out their civic duties, and now they were acting like pirates!”
Grace laughed so loudly that it echoed through the empty street. Yes, I apologize for any confusion. They may appear to be cleaning, but they are only interested in the wealth, I promise.”
I took out a bunch of money from my pocket and held them up, shaking my head. “And this, too? I’ve been gathering this magnificent prize all afternoon.”
Grace’s eyes got bigger. “Oh no, you found their stash!”
“I couldn’t resist,” I said, chuckling once again. When I noticed that they were hiding something, my curiosity won out. I believed they were planning a cunning scheme.”
Grace continued to smile and waved a hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll inform them about the whereabouts of their treasure. They will find it amusing.
For a little period, the sound of our mutual laughter filled the space between us as we stood there. Grace then looked at me with curiosity. What then did you assume they were up to? Really, I mean?”
Embarrassed, but smiling, I shrugged. To be honest? I mistakenly believed they were tidying up the area out of civility. You know, like a volunteer program in the neighborhood.” I stopped, a grin that looked embarrassed coming across my face. “I even complimented you on how thoughtful they were.”
Grace shook her head and laughed once more. “Well, I suppose they are in a sense. They’re outside taking in some fresh air and keeping Grandpa occupied, right?
“That’s true enough,” I continued to laugh. “But I must say, you really had me fired up. I genuinely believed that I was observing aspiring city council members in action.”
Grace gave me a smile, and for a split second, everything seemed light and easy. With a pleasant voice, she asked, “Who knows?” “Perhaps, they are indeed picking up some responsibility. even if it’s only a small amount of money.”
“Perhaps,” I said. “But next Sunday, I think I’ll just sit back and enjoy the show… treasure hunt and all.”
Grace gave a wink. “Sounds like a plan.”
