This year I made a pact with myself that I was going to do at least one thing outside of my comfort zone. One thing which would not only make me cringe at the mere thought of doing it, but quite possibly make shake in my boots too.
Just after I made that pact, the gurus who select what you see on Facebook plopped an advertisement for a writing contest into my newsfeed. I clicked on the link and began reading the entry requirements....... and the butterflies started fluttering around in my tummy and the self-doubts crept in.
The competition was for the Erma Bombeck Writing Competition. The doubts of "who am I to be writing anything for a competition named after one of the greatest humor writers of all time" and "Ha! You don't even know the difference between an adjective and a participle!".
With some encouragement from family and friends, I stuck to my plan and wrote an essay for the contest....... and even submitted it. Knowing that I never win anything, my expectations to win were pretty much non-existent, but, by having submitted the essay, I had already won. I had conquered one battle over my fear.
The results were announced a couple of weeks ago and, as usual, I won no awards or accolades for my essay; however, I feel like I won an Academy Award for having the gumption to have actually submitted it.
As part of the rest of that pact I made with myself, I am posting the essay I wrote. So here it is in all of its "must be less than 450 words" winningest loser glory:
The Lawn Mower Man
It begins with a few
wispy clouds scattered across a beautiful blue sky. Within minutes, the sky is covered in dark,
ominous storm clouds. The bright flash
of lightning and sharp crack of thunder permeate the stillness of the
afternoon.
The sound of an
approaching storm causes normal people to seek shelter, but my husband is not
like “normal people”. When thunder
starts rolling, he steps outside, sniffing the wind like any good bloodhound
trying to catch the scent of its target.
At the first whiff of dust settling in the air, he transforms into a
superhero. His work clothes go sailing through the air as he dons his superhero
costume. With a wife-beater tank top, cut-off shorts, and a towel as his cape,
he becomes “The Lawnmower Man”!
Faster than a speeding
bullet, he runs and grabs the weedeater out of the garage. As the storm gets closer and the thunder grows
louder, he deftly edges around the yard and levels the grass next to the
flowerbed. With lightning flying around like
fireworks on Independence Day, The Lawnmower Man realizes the time is perfect to
unleash “The Turfinator”.
The roar of the lawn
mower challenges the god of thunder for supremacy. Zeus hurls lightning bolts while our
superhero raises his fist in defiance. Other
men may duck and run for cover, but The Lawnmower Man just snorts and continues
to mow as though he’s on a leisurely stroll through a botanic garden. Lightning blinds the average man, but The
Lawnmower Man is able guide his mower through the blazing brightness in
perfectly straight lines within his predetermined directional mowing plan.
As rain begins to fall,
he summons the next weapon in his arsenal, the fertilizer spreader. Sprinting back and forth across the yard
faster than an Olympic gold medalist, he rushes to get the grass fed in the
rain. In a torrential downpour, The
Lawnmower Man will wrap the top opening of the spreader with kitchen plastic
wrap, like a prized Thanksgiving dinner leftover, to prevent the fertilizer
from dissolving before he is able to spread it across the lawn.
If he finishes spreading
the fertilizer before the thunderstorm ends, he steps up on the porch as though
it were an Olympic platform, to receive the gold medal before an imagined
stadium packed with cheering fans. If
the thunderstorm dies off before he finishes, he hangs his head and repeats the
defeated athlete’s pledge to be in better shape and better prepared for the
next match-up. As the storm clouds clear, The Lawnmower Man realizes the
neighbors are watching closely, wondering if they should record his heroism
………or dial 911.
