Two years ago while cutting my thick green lawn, I quietly wished I did not have to do this weekly chore.
3 weeks ago, I shook the hand of the landscaper who told me my lawn was dying. As he drove away, I stared at my diseased, brown, dry grass that I now only have to mow once a month.
3 years ago I hated my job. The same everydayness of the job pulled down on me and rising from bed each morning was harder than spin class.
My job is still the same today but “hate“ has dissolved in to “like” because I have a job.
8 months ago, the economy visited my job. The office I was working out of was closing. The office rent was an expense that was easy to cut and relationships did not matter. I was sent to my house to work—alone. I mourned for the friendships I would miss.
Today, at home in my quiet, corner office with windows, I am more efficient. I have more time to write and feed my creative mind.
4 years ago, at the old house, while cutting the grass, I would often find a large decaying rat in my lawn. The site and smell of death angered me.
2 weeks ago, at the new house, my wife called me on her cell phone trapped in the car in the garage. She needed me to come get the dead bunny that expired just behind the rear left tire. As I scooped up the cute bunny his death made me sad.
8 years ago, while chasing after my 5 year old son I longed for the day he would be more independent.
Today, while passing a 13 year old in my living room who is creeping up on my height and is independent, I long for his clingy 5 year old hands.