Not returning

I know to many, they mock their efforts to display perfection in an immaculate lawn.  Today, they are not weeds, they stand as teachers.  Across the street, from the lawn my weak body is mowing, my elder neighbor died.  A good friend and warrior is quickly slipping away.  Her partner is preparing.  And as I mow, these miniature suns remind me how quickly they will return.  The mower will dispatch their stems and balls of sun but by tomorrow I will already see them returning and reaching towards their mirror. My body wasn’t ready to mow but she understood.  My sensible mind forgave my disregard for shoes.  Sometimes your soul needs to feel the earth as you walk.  Sometimes you need to watch how constant and quickly life faithfully returns.  And sometimes you hear the whispers of teachers…”One doesn’t return if you never left.”