Man and Lawn

Ah yes. Dear grass. How I have missed you since the last time we met.
An old man came out of his house.
A young man came out of this house.
He wasn’t sure of what he was anymore.

The time he had spent in that house, each day, outside his house, reclining in his bright blue and white crosshatched lawn chair, never seemed to pass by.

The truth was, he was never in his house. I mean, he was, just not in spirit. His life remained in that lawn. His fascination only caught by that lawn and that lawn only.
The smell of grass after mowing, crisp and musky stung his nostrils like ammonia. Once again outside, with no care in the world for what he was wearing, he positioned his most faithful companion parallel with the shadows cast by his house, and sat on him.
Or perhaps it was “her”.
Women never entered the picture, but this rarely occurred to him.
Except for now.
What would her name be? I mean, his. Or hers. Damn I’ve never been this confused in years.
All these years, he had sat, watching the grass sway back and forth like a woman. His woman. His lover. Smooth and natural.

The sun rose over his decrepit house, smoothing his wrinkles and awakening his thoughts.
Oh yes. A lovely green indeed.
It was a lovely shade of green. Especially in that light. Sadly that green would not be the same green in a matter of seconds.

How simply his mind worked!
All he could see were the lovely greens and how the wind made the waves like seawater.
It grew awfully fast, he thought. He hadn’t mowed it in a while. But then what was that smell? Oh. His neighbor’s lawn.
His head rolled to see that lawn.
How dreadfully short. How ugly and straight. No movement, no life.

He looked up and his ears began to ring and the light made his face feel explosive.
Standing up and moving once again, he noticed an old fat lady with her dog. Approaching. Approaching fast.

NO!
He stood still. She didn’t look up. The dog approached. And sniffed.
NO NO NO
The dog dared to take a step onto his beautiful shining leaves of grass.
NO!
He finally screamed with rage, holding his chair high above his graying head to his surprise.
The lady screamed and pulled the dog away.
His neighbor was watching with a sickened and betrayed look, brows stretched like rubber.
Just another fellow man who wouldn’t understand.

Fact: this old but young man felt above everyone else. Fact: he was. But at the same time, he couldn’t comprehend his fascination with the grass. Why?

He wasn’t connected to the rest of humanity. With the exception of those fleeting moments in which he was yelling at passers by or staring into their eyes while thinking.

Fragments. That was. How it worked.
He didn’t need a lot of money. Just a small house and a large lawn. And he was happy.
He took off his sandals.
Cold soil. Hot blades. Such a contrast. Such a wonderful feeling.
Maybe love is like that? Nah.
Who needs that when you’ve got a lawn.
Something to care for and watch grow so beautiful and rich and colorful.

He had no control over the dogs that came at night. He was suddenly frightened. In his own lawn. With shivers. Or the shivers were from the sun. Warming him up again.

He watched the grass shiver with him as the wind rushed through with laughter and fury.
No sound.
So invisible.
Did he love the grass or the wind?
Was there another woman in his life?
That controlled the other but was the underlying element in his fascination?
Nah.

Back to the days of building canals in wet sand.
Back to the days of poking the ladybugs and rolly little black creatures.
Back to the sprinklers in summer and sweet petals in spring.
All together with the cutting blades and thin rolling leaves.
He saw a child and thought again.
Nah.