Neil tried to show me how to drive the lawn tractor years ago--but, I didn't pay attention. He explained how to use some tools, but I never cared to listen. He marched out the door carrying spiders when I didn't want them killed, but didn't want them living in our house, and he always laughed. He knew me like no one else ever has, and he knew that with our age difference that I'd probably be living alone someday--but, I refused to believe it or prepare for it. Now, I'm driving that lawn tractor with tears in my eyes, and racing out the door with spiders (hyperventilating), and using tools that I can't even identify, and I hate every minute of it. I want to tell him that I forgot to put the blade down, and mowed half the lawn before realizing it. I want to tell him that I got that huge bolt loosened that fastened the table to the wall, and I want to tell him that I shoveled four yards of pond rocks into that muddy area of the back yard where the dogs loved to get dirty. I want to tell him that I have a new appreciation for all of the things that he did around the house, and that I never realized how exhausting it could be. I want to hold his hand, and hear his voice, and say I'm sorry, and kiss those lips that spoke my name. I want to hear him making coffee in the morning, and asking me what that word is in his crossword puzzle. I want to turn the clock back and get another chance. I don't want to be a widow. I want to be Neil's wife.
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