It had been two weeks of unexpected complications, nothing life-threatening but definitely life-challenging; that kind of experience that leaves you tired, a little off center and maybe even a little depressed.
I had awakened to that perfect fall day-cool, crisp and sunny with a bright, almost sapphire sky. And best of all-an energy I could not explain. For the first time in two weeks, I felt good.
With my dog perched in his usual gardening position-on a long leash in the front yard, I began mowing, happy to be doing something physical. Something useful. Something I enjoyed.
A neighbor stopped her car across the street, got out and asked me if her son could mow my yard for free. She quickly explained he needed to do twelve hours of community service and could he please mow my yard to help him get started. My limited experience with kids and "community service" involved church youth groups, National Honor Society and traffic tickets. I asked if he was in NHS and she said, "No he's been in trouble." Of course by now I'd lost precious garden time, agreed to let a "troubled teen" mow my yard and who knew what kind of trouble he was going to bring me. Ugh.
"Terri", my newly acquainted neighbor quickly came back, got out and thanked me profusely for allowing her son to help me. The passenger door opened and out stepped a very young, fresh-faced, young man with a big smile and sparkling blue eyes. "Oh great, Eddie Haskell is here," I thought to myself. Please. He came over, offered a hand to shake and introduced himself. He politely thanked me for helping him out and asked where he could start. After explaining where and how I would like the yard mowed, "Johnny" took off like a man with a mission. The mower wouldn't start. So he began to help me trim bushes. I found him to be an enjoyable gardening companion, despite my efforts to just get this project over with. He was so honest it took me aback a little.
Johnny was in drug rehab. He explained how he'd moved to the neighborhood and started a new school-shy, didn't know anybody and wound up with the wrong kind of friends. He talked about how the people at his "school" were kind, helpful and firm. He told me he fought a lot with his mom. My heart began to melt. We talked about making mistakes, consequences and forgiveness. He talked about what a cool dog I had and about his golden retriever, now gone. About his Dad, who passed away last Christmas.
The mower started. The kid mowed like he was trying out for the mowing olympics. It seemed important to him to do a good job. And he did.
As he sipped his Pepsi ( the only payment the program allowed), he said, "The program is good, but they can't do it for me. It's me that has to do the right thing."
Candid. Wise. Sweet. I was glad the mower didn't start earlier, that my unexplained energy showed up on this particular day, that my dog loves all people-and that I had a new friend.
No comments:
Post a Comment