Meant To Be

My Saturday morning got started on a very frustrating note.

I had to get up.

Then I needed to mow the grass. The mower wouldn’t start. It just made a clicking sound. Problem with the battery or starter solenoid. According to my best friend, Google, of course.

Heaven knows I didn’t have a clue.

Ok, so I’ll do the weed eating. I felt compelled to make this a productive Saturday morning. I did get out of bed after all.

The weed eater wouldn’t start. I gave it all that my shoulder had and more. Nope.

Dejected, I walked inside and flopped on the couch. “I’m taking a nap.”

It was 9:45am.

Sandra wasn’t sure if I was serious or joking. Just joking, I said. But not really.

I told her about my lawn care issues. Always the Pollyanna she replied, “I guess that it wasn’t meant to be.”

I’m sure that our neighbor would disagree. The back 40 is pretty high. A small child could get lost.

But I only had about an hour before we left for the entire day, so what was I to do?

“Hey, Will, wanna do a Sudoku puzzle?”

That led to 15 minutes of tickling, laughing and hugging. Things that don’t happen near enough. Maybe cutting the grass wasn’t meant for today.

But I’m sure this was.