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's steady drone shook the handle, sending a vibration from my fingertips to my head, tickling my ears. The freshly cut grass poked up between my toes, both prickly and soft at the same time. Holding back a sneeze, my nose tingled 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…