Now that I'm turning twenty-one, I can’t help but laugh whenever I remember my mom’s voice echoing through the house, complaining about our old neighbors.

I grew up in a neighborhood right beside the highway. Between the sidewalk and the line of houses was a narrow open drain. One of our neighbors had this septic tank that, whenever full, would overflow into that drain. The smell was unbearable—and since the drain was so narrow, it would overflow into a stinky puddle right in front of our house.

What annoyed us most was how they acted like it wasn’t happening. They would walk past that puddle every day, completely unbothered. Looking back, it almost felt intentional.

Still, I find it funny now. That memory reminds me how lucky I am that our current neighbors mind their own business and actually take care of their space. Maybe this generation is more self-aware—people seem to focus on improving themselves so they don’t become someone else’s problem.

I just hope I never get an upstairs neighbor like that one. You never really know if someone’s genuinely kind or secretly the devil incarnate… until the smell starts to spread.