The Mower
A Story "From the Vault"
I pull into the driveway, turn off the car and look out past the chain link fence into the backyard. An air of neglect hangs over this place. The same neglect that hangs over me. My whole body feels heavy. And sticky. My jeans and my loose shirt are stuck to my arms and legs. For once, my outsides perfectly match my insides.
Unable to muster the energy to get out of the car, I stare straight ahead. All I see in front of me is the untended yard and the tall grass. It is a need that cannot wait. It is a need that only I can meet.
Stuck to my seat, I rest my forehead on the top edge of the steering wheel. A huge sigh leaves my mouth. It is not a sigh of relief but of resignation. Once I leave this car bubble, my second workday begins. But I am exhausted from a long day at work and all I can think is, “I wish someone else could mow the lawn. Or that I could afford to pay someone to do it.” But there is no one else, and the cost to ask for any kind of help feels way too high.
