When the normal seems so foreign.

The sky was clear and there was no rain in sight. Confirmation that today was the day to mow the lawn, which had had ample opportunity to grow having been well-watered by rainy days. I put on my trainers and went into the garage telling myself:  “You can do this, it’s not that hard.” I dug out the lawnmower and tried to figure out how it worked. I got a little way there, but after figuring out how to start it (I hadn’t actually started it yet) I realised I had no idea how to turn it off. Now I realise it is very simple to stop it, you simply stop holding in the handle that keeps it on, but I didn’t know that then.

Suddenly the simple, normal task of lawn-mowing grew into a bit of a mountain, and I decided it would have to be put on hold until I could make sure it would be a safe endeavor. Stepping back inside I quickly sent a text message to my brother requesting his assistance, and a little later he popped by and helped me do a test run on starting and stopping the mower.

I successfully completed the task of mowing (think I need a bit more practise before it can be viewed as a "perfectly mowed lawn", but it is at least shorter then it was) and raking together the grass-cuttings (is that even a word), and am quite content at my accomplishment. Still, looking out at the lawn, knowing this is part of everyday life for most people, I am reminded that transition is a process, and that is has no timeframe. You walk through it one foreign taks at a time, until the foreign becomes "normal."