I was half watching Jerry Springer this morning, taking my first sips of coffee for the day, assessing my rather light client schedule, inhaling the first infuse of nicotine, and rubbing the sleep from my eyes when suddenly I heard it. It has come to be a familiar sound on Friday mornings this summer, and while during the first couple of weeks I found it to be disconcerting, I now look forward to it.

Last week, while he was camping with his family, I actually found myself missing it.

Scalding my tongue on the still too fresh coffee while hearing several, "beep...yo' mamma...beep beep beep", from the television, my attention to my burning tongue is diverted, the degradation of the English language is suddenly drowned out by the revving of a lawn mower.

Alyx had arrived.

Since it has been tall enough to cut the very first time this spring, Alyx has come like clockwork every Friday to mow our lawn. We never asked him to. He just arrived one day. He is here whether sprinkling or not. He is here even if it is not that much taller since he cut it the week before. He is here even the day after his chemotherapy, which is every other Thursday. And when he is finished with our's, he mows his brother's, and a neighbor's

And to think, he both think The Goddess and I protest too much.

Like he says every week, Reekie and Moo do not deserve to get wet legs every morning when they go out for pees and pods.

But I know that is just a catch phrase. Alyx wants to feel as though he is contributing. He wants to reassure himself that his life while on hiatus from work still has things to fill the hours with. He wants to perpetuate the image he so unselfishly projected before he got sick.

He wants to be.

And even though it is a constant worry to us that he is stretching himself too thin, I no longer say anything. I no longer stand in the yard and protest as he walks by. I just let him be. It occurred to me that our constantly telling him not to be doing things, to take it easy, and thereby reminding him that he is sick, is probably not doing much for his self esteem, which in turn does little positive for him.

So, The Goddess and I quickly get our altogether together, clear the kitchen, brew some brew, and get out the crib board. He typically stays for an hour or so and chats, caffinates, and plays crib.

Today, our lawn as pristine as a new penny, he only had time to stay for a coffee before heading off to spread joy elsewhere.

I personally think he was just too afraid he'd get skunked again.

Be Well