Right this very second, my husband is outside, mowing our new grass for the first time. In fact, it’s been many years since he’s had to mow grass at all (almost a decade), because the military housing folks did it for us.
This man is outside, pacing back and forth with the whir of this mower, gifted to us from our new neighbor across the way; a neighbor who always has the arms, tools and know-how to help us; a neighbor who might be a couple decades my husband’s senior, but my husband sure has taken a liking to him (and so have I); a neighbor who has ‘saved the day’ many times for us already, in the less-than-three-weeks we’ve been living here; a neighbor who fixed up this mower he gifted us, ‘just because’ and gave it to us, because he could.
Watching my husband, with his epic red-haired beard he grows when he’s on extended leave, proudly marching back and forth mowing away the uneven growth we worked and watered twice daily so hard for on our lawn, while our kids play with their new best-friends-for-life, light-sabering and bike-riding and basket-balling, as I stood there on my porch, watching Baby Dude run his ever-so-fastest to me to give me a simple hug, all while the sun begins to set, I simply broke into tears.
Tears of pride, tears of ridiculous happiness. Of luck and love and blessings more than I can count.
I am so grateful every day for being here, for sharing this life-changing experience with them.
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