8/13/09

I hit the lawn mower today.
I kicked, pounded, pummeled with all available limbs. Beads of sweat streaked down the face of a red-cheeked 19 year old. Muffled exhales of breath escaped with violent ferocity. The quiet whisper of "She's A Rainbow" could be heard from the iPod ear-buds holding on to my ears for dear life. Luckily, no real damage was done...I don't think...

What a sight it was.

I've come to realize that on occasion, I completely lose my cool on inanimate objects. Let me dispel any hint that I would do this to anything other than an inanimate object. I could never do what I did to the lawnmower to any human being or animal.
It happens maybe once a month, if that. I just get frustrated with something so I shake it until it clicks, hit it until it lights up, kick it until it starts. I can remember doing this even at a very young age, a lot more often then. Currently, it's more out of habit. I was bullied through my childhood, yada yada, I don't want anyone's pity. It wasn't that bad. But it would still cause me to come in and every once and a while, hit a pillow or a piece of furniture or whatever was giving me a hard time. It was nothing drastic. It was me hitting a sofa cushion until I realized what I was doing. I always felt ashamed after, like I had stooped to the level of the bully.

And so here I am, kicking the side of the lawn mower, stopping occasionally to try to start the engine again, Rolling Stones playing adding a soundtrack to the occasion. But today I came to a realization.
After checking the gas, about to wail on it again, I stopped. I looked up into the sky and felt the calm. There was something else there, something keeping me from my frustration. I gazed at the low-hanging clouds against a blue saturated sky. The swaying limbs of the trees pulled my attention to the leaves reaching out in all directions. A quick prayer of thanks...I drooped my head down and let the sun beat down upon my neck, a wry smile on my face. I closed my eyes and took it all in.

Then I drenched the lawn mower in gasoline, lit it on fire, and pushed it down the big hill leading away from my street. It was a beautiful sight. It slowly hobbled down the road, its squeaky uneven wheel causing a limp. Slowly, people began poking their heads out from behind the faded doors. The kids on War Admiral Rd. dropped their bats and balls. Arrcaro Ln. let go of their bikes and scooters. The neighborhood bully stopped in mid-abuse, the victim making a run for the trees as the torch made its way past the suburban sprawl.