Sweet Moments

There are some pretty sweet moments around here.  A week or so ago, I bought a new riding lawnmower, because it was less expensive than paying someone to mow the grass all summer.  It is shiny and red and fun!  Dad thought so too.  Dad wants to mow the grass.

I mean, who can blame him!  He has mowed the grass and done other manly things to help the family his entire life. So I taught him about the various levers and switches and what not, necessary to drive the mower.  He got the mower started and made a few circles around the lawn, enough to create a smooth green area in the middle of the yard.  He looked so happy. Then he was tired and so we put the mower away.

Today, I came home from work.  Dad said he needed another lesson -- that he couldn't figure out how to start the mower.  Apparently he had planned to mow while I was at work.   It turned out that the lever that engages the mower blade was forward and it needs to be backward for the mower to start.  Okay.  Lesson learned.

Undoubtedly, he will mow today while I am at work. Maybe today he will be successful in getting the mower started.  It terrifies me in a way.  His mind is slow.  His feet are hard to  control.  He could be unable to put on the brake in time and he could crash and be hurt.  Will he remember he can just turn off the key?  If he were hurt, my mother would not know for a while.  She would be in the house.  She can't see out the window.  She is nearly blind.  All kinds of bad things could happen.

But Dad is 89.  If he has a crash, he has a crash.  His happiness is so important now.  He loves the new mower, like a kid loves a new bike.  He likes the freedom of driving, when he can no longer drive on the road.  He likes to be contributing to the family in a familiar way.  I can't take that away from him.

Good luck Dad.  And happy mowing.