Miles Barnett – Mowing the Lawn
Mowing the Lawn
I remember when I was little, about three. I would ask my Dad to help him mow the lawn. But I was too small to reach the handle bar and not strong enough to push the mower. Sometimes, Dad would put me in the baby carrier, so I could be with him when he mowed the lawn. And other times I would follow along behind with my little green and white plastic mower.
We lived in a different house then at Brook Road. The yard there was almost one half acre of mostly lush green grass. It took over two hours to mow. The grass was half way to my knees.
Following him around for two hours was so tiring at times I just lay in the freshly cut grass and rested. Dad was so fast – to keep up with him I had to run. Even though the sun was going down, it was bright on the grass and hurt my eyes. I was hot and sweaty. The new cut grass smelled like summer to me, sweet and fresh.
Every week, for months, Dad would mow the lawn and I would follow him. I loved mowing the lawn. Even though, sometimes I would just quit, hot and tired, and go inside where it was cool and get a nice cold drink of water.