Even the dog knows enough to get into the shade. It's only 9:00, but the sun is already poaching the boy in humidity. Why was Dad so obsessed about the lawn? Why can't we just let the grass grow, like in a national park? People pay money to go to national parks!
The lawn mower curses the boy and starts.
Soon, sweat wets his hair and plasters his shirt to his skin and stings his eyes. He told Dad the Gatorade commercials said he was losing vital electrolytes. Dad said he'd survive.
He tries ignoring the heat, pushing the mower forward and back across the lawn. Stop. Bag the mulch. Leave the bag. Drink from water bottle. Restart the mower. Repeat. Repeat.. Repeat.
We need a riding mower. The lawn's at least 50 feet across. Do they make riding mowers with air conditioning?
Up to the tree. He can't think about anything but the heat.
He thinks about Holly. How she sits at her school desk. How she plays with her hair. Her smile. That actually helps a lot.
Finally. Haul the bags to the curb. Done.
Tell Dad.
Run the six blocks to the sno-ball stand where Holly works.
This work by Timothy H. Ruppel is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
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