Father mowed the lawn on Sundays
He’d cast off his shirt and laugh
As shreds of grass landed on his eyebrows
Brother would chase the crazed machine
Imitating its spitting sounds.
Mother and I would squeeze fresh lemonade
To hydrate the boys
Smiling, she’d dance across the lawn
And gracefully settle the tray on a bench
Blowing the boys kisses.
Father says he is proud of brother
And brother will make a strong man
Like father.
Mother pats my head
And thanks me for my help.
Once I too tried to bring the lawnmower to life
It merely chortled at me and refused to move
Father had pity- and settled me on his lap
Sticky palms gripping the wheel,
Showing father that I can also be like him.
Lemonade forgot to appear on the bench
I saw mother peering through the window.
Father sometimes needs help in the garage
But only when brother isn’t there
I gallop at the idea of escaping the heat of the kitchen
I prefer even the dustiness of the garage.
I sew myself a pair of overalls,
And watch father and brother pounding with their tools
Maybe my turn to help is next?
But mother catches me wasting time and set me off to mix bread.
"Am I not strong enough to help them?" I ask
Mother shakes her head
Wondering why-
Why I need to be different.
