Wednesday, June 26, 2013
A few days ago a friend of mine mentioned she discovered a dead bird in her backyard. She had a little boy visiting and at one point he sort of wandered away on his own. She discovered him frozen, head tilted, staring beneath a bush. That's how they found the dead bird.
The story brought up a strange memory I had from my first job. I was sixteen and had just been hired at an outfitters store I loved, Suntrail Outfitters. They sold skis, snowshoes, tents...
One of the first tasks the owner had me do was mow the lawn. It might have been my first shift. I remember acting competent, as if I had mowed a lawn before.
Everything went fairly well. I was able to get the lawnmower to move forward and to actually cut the grass. However, as I pushed the mower along in rows, I noticed ahead of me a black blob I couldn't quite identify. I thought it was a garbage bag.
Maybe I didn't want to stop for fear I wouldn't be able to start the mower up again. Maybe I just didn't think at all. Regardless of why... I ran over that black blob.
It ended up being a dead crow. I remember bird bits flying everywhere and a disgusting smell rising up around me.
I kept mowing.
I didn't tell my boss about it either. Imagine him discovering the bird bits in the backyard later on that day. He never asked me about it.
As my memory recalled this experience earlier this week, my main thought was, What on earth was I thinking? Why didn't I just stop and think things through? Why didn't I examine that black thing before proceeding to run it over with a lawnmower? Was I blind? Then I sort of secretly shook my head at myself and giggled.
And I'm not sure what it's all about, but I keep thinking of that crow blown to bits by my lawnmower. And I'm thinking it's okay to slow down, Mary, slow down.