Maintaining the Yard

It was about five years ago, in 2013, when my dad finally gave in and let someone else cut the grass. He had fallen the year before while cutting it and hurt his back. My parent’s yard is steep and on a corner and has thick zoysia grass. Cutting it is a big job, especially in the Georgia summer heat and humidity.

But an unsuspecting neighborhood teenager came by one day and asked if my dad needed help with the yard and thus began a beautiful relationship. His name is Callie and he is young and strong and doesn’t mind putting up with my controlling, demanding father. My dad would still start the mower and show Callie where to cut first. He stands outside and watches Callie and they discuss when to empty the bag of grass clippings and where to dispose of them. Usually Callie has to leave before finishing, but he always comes back and completes the job even if it takes three days to do so.

Mom likes to prune the roses and other bushes, but now my dad will come outside and tell her to come back in the house. For some reason he doesn’t like her doing it. She likes to tend the vine growing up the mailbox. I’m not sure what’s going on in my dad’s head when mom is outside. Maybe he wants her to be near him. It infuriates me, but I have to just let it go. I chalk it up to dementia.