Mom mows the lawn
How one small memory stuck with a child for her entire life.
Summer, 2006. My point of view.
Six years old. I was watching my mom. Her body at a 45-degree angle to the ground, sweat dripping into her bandana, curly hair up in a bun. She was mowing our soccer-field sized lot.
Without help of a rider. Without help of automatic wheels. Without help.
At the time, I had no idea how much of an impact this vivid memory would have on me 15 years later. I sat on the steps of our two-bedroom house on Mountain Lake Road where my two brothers and I shared a bedroom. Though, we hardly actually slept in that bedroom. We liked to tip-toed into our mom’s room to sleep next to her. There was room there.
To us, it was normal not having our dad around all the time. Holidays and occasional weekends. We would be so excited to see our dad. But mom was the strong one. Mom took care of us. Mom mowed the lawn.
Summer, 2006. Angie’s point of view.
Eighty degrees. Sunny. Humid. Here I am using the push mower to cut the grass of my double-lot. I hate using the push mower. I woke up at 3 AM this morning to open Casey’s, the gas station I manage. My kids sit on the front steps of our tiny, two-bedroom house on Mountain Lake Road.
Levi is the oldest. Alex and Brook came three and a half years later. Twins. My kids are my life. I would do anything for them. Anything. I wish I could spend all of my time with them, but somebody has to pay the bills. Cut the grass. Cook the food. It never stops.
2018.
“Mom, I still remember being a kid and watching you mow the huge lot we had on Mountain Lake Road,” I said. “You know, that really showed me how strong you are and taught me to be independent.”
“What?” she asked. “I always borrowed Wayne’s rider. I must not have been able to a few times.”
“Wow. That has stuck with me for my whole life,” I replied. “Seeing that as a kid really shaped me. You gave me a strong image of a woman who could take care of herself and her children. Not many people have stories like that about their moms.”
