Cutting the grass as I cut out attitudes from the past

I think that I shunned cutting the lawn, here at The Mableton Mansion, because of my father. Although I cut half of our neighbors’ lawns, back in Hartford, and West Hartford, Conn.,

for cash, as a kid, my dad never let me cut his grass. I don’t know if he thought that I wouldn’t cut the his grass to his standards, or if he liked cutting it. My partner Joan loves to cut the grass, but she is consumed by a real world job. I forget my point on all of this, but, today, I find it nice to get out in the sun some, get some exercise, make the place look a little better, and receive the high praise that said partner gives me for doing what had previously been her job. It’s not a job, here at The Mableton Mansion. It’s an adventure! I feel some of my father in me as I walk up and down the lawn with the mower. That would have bothered me in the past because we did not have the greatest relationship, but each day I realize that there were many good points to the man from County Cork, and festering on the bad of him was both juvenile and stupid, and I am neither of those.