I wonder at times and others I don’t wonder at all. There’s a simplicity to gliding through moments of life in a mauve colored haze. I mowed the lawn and the gasoline vapors nipped at my nose. I wove a curved path through the grass— trying to avoid the blocked end of the ladder sidled next to the porch. I remembered the nerves of a younger version of myself. The one that worried about sharp pieces of wood flying out from behind the mower towards my face. Not that that ever happened. Closest I got was when some bark chips splattered my legs.

I used to want to mow the lawn. In a bid to prove I was growing older or more responsible I don’t know. It might have just been the boyish desire to be around a running machine. Later, in my young teenage years, it became a way to earn money to pay for my cell phone. The one that I’d use in burgeoning relationships. One’s where I’d be too afraid to cross the bridge from my own world into one of mutual trust. Still, fresh grass kept me in T9 and for that I was grateful.