Harvard University

Push forward, pull back, pivot, again. Beads of sweat rhythmically descended from my hairline to my brow, then down my chin. The machine is steady drone shook the handle, sending a vibration for my fingertips to my head, tickling my ears. The freshly cut grass popped up between my toes, both prickly and soft at the same time. Holding back a sneeze, my nose tangled with the sharp smell of the half-cut grass blades trailing behind me. Every Sunday morning, since I was thirteen, I was expected to mow my lawn and that of my elderly neighbors. I would wake up, hoping that my responsibility would…