How to Use Your Father’s Lawnmower

It is advised that you familiarize yourself with the location of various controls and adjustments before operation. It is advised that you raise the mower blades to better accommodate grass left untouched since the afternoon your aunt whisked you and your sisters to Panera while your father packed.

Since your energy is waning, focus on the essentials—namely, starting the engine.

Repeat, once more, the instructions your mother gave you while she sifted crinkled court documents: Pull the handle to the thing, then yank the cord. Angle your body in different ways to better clutch the “handle” and the “thing,” which protrude to a height that makes your five-foot-one-inch frame feel incapable of generating any steering force.

Now, yank the cord. No, Yank! Invest all the exclamation points you can muster. Attempt three, four, five times. More, if necessary.

And, with a jerk and a roar, plunge forth. 

Push, arms straight out, into the chaos of a new world. Awkwardly blaze each crooked row. Wince but endure the exploding grass stinging your bare legs, the stench of gasoline filling your nostrils.

Trample your way across the old exhibit, digging your heels in as you leave a disarray of razed shoots. Curve around the right and left flanks of the house, side-eyeing the obliviously joyful hydrangea bushes running along the vinyl siding.

Conquer the sloping backyard, repressing those sudden memories of laughter and fresh air. Clip, as best as possible, the irregular tufts of grass jutting around the playground set he built, sweating over wooden slats while you slurped homemade popsicles. Pause at the base of the wide patio deck, the location of countless family get-togethers, where he would grill pizza and pump Afro-Latin music through the outdoor speakers.