Mowing the Yard

I had to mow the backyard for the first time this year. It makes no sense. In my mind, it’s still winter, still December 2025 before the world stopped. Grass shouldn’t grow in winter. Nothing makes any sense.

It was the grass you played in, the grass you patrolled in, the grass you buried your toys in, the paths we walked together, the yard we snuggled in, the yard we hunted bugs in. It is your yard Neville. It will always be your yard, your paths, your bugs, your bench, your patio, your step I built for you that your sister hates. It’s all yours and always will be. Mommy misses you beyond words.