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Thursday, December 19, 2002Helping a Little
He's helping with the leaves: raking them in the front yard, loading them onto the big blue tarp, dragging them into the back, piling them onto the compost pile. But what's taking him so long?
He's helping with the leaves perhaps, but at the moment, he's lying down on the job: under the tarp on top of the leaves with the dog barking at him from the other side of the fence. His head pokes up from under the blue. Wide-eyed, caught in the act, he sees me coming thru the gate, a guilty grin on his face and a strand of jasmine tied around his head.
He's helping with the leaves somewhat, but I seem to be doing most of the raking, and I seem to be doing most of the loading. Although he drags them to the back on his own, I have to go back there to get him to return.
He's helping with the leaves only a little.
...
I remember a summer in Michigan years ago when I spent a month at my grandparents' house. During the days, they would be out in the yard from morning to night, pulling at weeds, mowing the grass, picking berries. They would be out there, but I have this memory of sneaking into the house and lying on the bed.
During the day. While the breeze rustled thru the leaves of the oak trees in the front and blew in thru the screen. With the sound of the mower coming from around back. While there was work to do. I have this memory. While my grandparents worked in the yard outside, I was lying down on the job, helping with the chores only a little. And I wonder with shame what they must have thought.
...
At least he's helping a little.
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