Lesson

I sat on the dry, cracked earth and pondered calling Willie, the lawn guy for all my work houses. Just get the phone and hit speed dial 'cause we talk a lot in the summer. "What's up Willie? It's your favorite garden girl. Are we watering P------'s lawn yet?" Sounded easy but my phone was slightly out of my arm's reach, lying on the ground next to my recently discarded hoody.

I looked at my phone, sighed and chose to lie my body down in the scratchy grass. The sun baked the second hoody that still cloaked me. My head felt heavy with the blood sluggishly moving towards my skull. The sounds of the dogs panting, the roofers swearing in Spanish and the wind rustling the leaves dimmed as I listened to my body's cry for sleep.

Wearily, I sat up and shuffled my butt cheeks closer to my phone. Call done, I put the stupid thing back on the ground and contemplated the garden in front of me.

I am not me, the woman I know. I move easily and rapidly through my work houses. I relish maintaining my own yard and house. Nightly..,mostly...I hop on one of my bikes for a jaunt about town or through the woods. I laugh out loud at the dogs antics on our walks.

This woman, who is she? So tired, she lets her buddy mow her front lawn without a murmur of protest. She sits in her lounge chair at 3pm, falling asleep until it's time to rise, grumbling, to feed the pups. Casting her eyes away from her bikes because she feels exhausted thinking about riding.

The dogs are more patient than I with the process. They sit at my feet, only asking for pets and love. The lack of movement creates angst for me.

There is a lesson here. I know. But, I get it. It's time to move on.