Mowing with Dad

I mowed the grass yesterday, for the first time in over 8 years.  When I got married, I decided I was done mowing grass.  That's what my husband was for.  Our first place we lived after being married was a townhouse, so they mowed it for us.  Then, we moved back to Indiana and into a parsonage.  The church was right next door, so whenever the church grass was mowed, they mowed our yard (it was a really small yard). Brooks would occasionally mow the grass, but I never did.  Now that we live in Michigan, we mow our own grass.  My husband has been the mower since moving here, but since he's been gone the past few days, I decided to help him out and mow the grass.  It had been such a long time.

When I was young, maybe around 11 or 12, my dad taught me how to mow.  I mowed my parent's grass, my Nana's grass, her neighbors grass, and sometimes my other grandma's grass.  It was a lot of work.  I had a love/hate relationship with mowing.  I hated being hot, sweaty, and dirty, but I loved getting paid to mow.  I remember making around $30 or so each week.  Not a lot, but when you are 12, it's a lot of money!

Looking back, it was probably a pain for my dad to have me mow.  He had to drive me all over, and usually he would weed wack or help out his mom while I mowed.  And I know sometimes I moaned and complained about having to mow.  But I have some really good memories of spending time with my Dad.  

So yesterday, as I was mowing our grass for the first time, I had tears running down my face at times.  If anyone would have stopped by, I probably would have blamed it on allergies or the dust, but the truth was that I was just missing my dad.  I miss spending time with him.  I miss his stupid jokes and his stories.  I miss him giving me advice.  I miss being able to call him up to chat.  And I really miss his hugs.  

 I would mow 100 lawns again if it meant I could spend more time with my Dad.