Rad Dad: The Lawnmower Edition

I had to get someone new to mow my lawn.

A few days ago, I was talking to a man who lives near by, and he said he had a 14-year old son who could mow it for me. I was very grateful because my grass was getting really really really long. He said he’d send his son that same day.

So later, I heard the sound of a mower and my doorbell at the same time. The dad was standing out on my porch. Over his shoulder I could see his son pushing away at the lawn mower. The mower was almost as big as the kid (he was real small and skinny). I had a pang in my stomach, and I thought he’s working so hard I should pay him one hundred dollars.(I really wished I could afford to pay him one hundred dollars. He deserved it.)

Anyways, the dad said he’d come along to help make sure his son knew the system. I think this was his first “summer-job” lawn. I looked again, over the dad’s shoulder, at the skinny kid trying to mow through my jungle (up-hill). I felt so grateful to his son, and pleased to participate in the summer-lawn-mowing rite of passage.

Then the dad informed me that I have a really aggressive weed/vine growing that I need to be careful about controlling. He told me he’d pull it out for me, and that he’d trim back my bushes (the bushes were taking over the lawn…can you tell my yard is sort of a jungle?). He said I didn’t need to pay extra. He was just there to help his son.

I thanked him profusely (what else could I do?) went inside, and continued with my indoor-activities.

My back lawn is not huge, but it runs on a hill.

It wasn’t long before I noticed the dad was mowing the lawn uphill and his son was mowing the downhill.

I thought: that is a rad dad.

Showing his son how to work. Picking up the slack where his son just could not do it (the grass was so long). Also! Showing his son service and how to do a job right. The dad didn’t care about getting paid, he just wanted to make sure his son knew what he was doing.

I was always taught not to watch people work, so it was already hard enough for me to stay inside. But when I saw that dad mowing the uphill because his son couldn’t do it— I felt like I was witnessing something sacred. No one else saw. I only saw flashes. Back and forth. Switching off.

I left an envelope of money for the kid on the patio table. I wrote his name on the envelope. And “Thank You” with an exclamation mark.

But the price of that memory for that kid is irreplaceable. Irreplaceable.

I’m happy I got to witness even flashes of that kind of love.

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photo: old faithful