I mowed lawn this afternoon. Sure enough when I got near my neighbor Bill's house, he came out to chat when he heard me stop the mower. Bill's wife died a couple of years ago, and I know that he's lonely. He told me shortly after she passed that what he missed most was just talking about his daily activities w/ someone. So I stood and talked w/ him awhile, but the entire time I was thinking to myself how I needed to get the mowing finished so I could go w/ Maddy to 1) buy tickets for her dance recital next Saturday, and 2) go to the high school to sign-off on her four-year plan for high school classes. But before I could do all that, I had to fix the handle on the mower b/c a nut had just fallen off, which is why I stopped the mower in the first place. Finally, I told him I had to find a nut and bolt to fix the handle so I left him, midway through his story about his recent health issues. After a half-hour searching for the right size bolt, I finally got the handle put back together and continued mowing for another 30 minutes (my lawn takes about two hours to mow) when along came Bill walking down my sidewalk, obviously wanting to show me something. I stopped the mower again to look at the framed picture of him and his first great, great grandchild. So I stood and talked w/ him some more. Somehow I managed to send him enough nonverbal signals to end the conversation fairly quickly and returned to my mowing. Then when I was about 15 minutes from finishing, the handle came apart again. The nut and bolt somewhere in my lawn. I didn't stop. I didn't look over my shoulder. I just kept mowing, loose handle and all.
All this made me think of Mom, imagine that. She always took the time to talk to people. She used to joke about how our neighbor, Mabel, always waited to hang her clothes out on the line until she saw Mom out there hanging up ours. Then they'd stand and talk for what seemed to me like hours. Mom used to clean the shelter houses in the city park, and she handled all the reservations. When people would come to pay, they'd usually stay and visit awhile, and she always talked w/ them as if there was nothing else she had to do. Occasionally she might say, "Well, I need to peel potatoes," but it was never a lie. She really did have to get dinner started. And she never grumbled or complained afterward about people taking up too much of her time. I wish that attitude came naturally to me, but I continuously have to remind myself to stand and talk to a neighbor. Because someday I could be that lonely neighbor wanting to share the latest picture of my great, great granddaughter.
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