Page 42 - Self Talk

All of us kids had a job. As the oldest, mine was edging.
I hated it more than anything, even more than making my bed. It took forever because we had miles of sidewalk
and just when I'd get to the end, it seemed like the beginning would be staring me in the face again. Mother would always make the first pass with her precision edging shears to get the biggest clumps out of the way. I followed behind with a pair of small scissors, carefully snipping every blade of grass that touched the sidewalk. Even a blade of grass that looked like it might touch the sidewalk had to be clipped, just so. On most days I would start crying about half way through, feeling sorry for myself, thinking that I was the only kid in the whole Navy who
had such a miserable life. One time I intentionally
scraped my knee on the sidewalk until it bled, hoping
for some sympathy and relief. But my pitiful protestation was lost on my mother who calmly reminded me that