Harold, the Push Mower had sat in the shed’s dark corner all winter long. After a happy season of weekly grass cuttings, he found himself unexpectedly drained and shoved aside. At first, Harold figured the situation was temporary – but the days turned into weeks, then months of dark, bitter cold.
He was fairly sure his master would come back for him any day, but as the long months unfolded, Harold began to wonder. He felt abandoned, rejected, and useless.
“Am I being punished? If so, what did I do wrong?”
“I was created to mow grass. Why can’t I just get out there and do what I was made to do?”
“Did my master forget about me? Has he found another mower that he likes better?”
“Maybe I’m washed up. Are memories all I have left of good days?”
Thus, Harold pondered and philosophized in the corner of the shed.
Then, one day, the door opened, and bright sunlight filled the little, windowless room. His master stood in the doorway. Harold rejoiced as his master strode directly towards him. “Well, little fellow,” his master said, “we have some work to do.”
Oh, the joy that flooded Harold’s heart! He hadn’t been forgotten after all – just set aside for a while. “I’m ready to roll!” he beamed, “Let’s rev up my motor and get going!”
But wait – instead of pulling on the starter cord, his master pushed him silently to the old pick up truck. Gently the master lifted him, and placed him in the bed.
“Where are we going?” Harold wondered. “Are we’re going to have some grass cutting adventures in other places? Maybe I’ll be a world traveler!”
But, alas, that was not the case. They went to the lawn mower shop. Harold was confused. “Why am I here?” he wondered. “What does this place have to do with me cutting grass?”
A kind gentleman removed Harold from the truck and pushed him into a garage as the master drove away. “Where are you going?” Harold cried. “I thought we were going to cut grass together!” “Why are you leaving me here?” It was a strange and frightening place.
In a few minutes, Harold found himself in the worst situation he’d ever experienced. First, the kind gentleman dismantled him completely – scrubbing and scraping. “Ouch! Ouch! Stop it!” Harold protested.
Then the kind gentleman turned on a grinder, and lifted it next to Harold’s blades. It was terrifying!
“What on earth are you doing?” Harold shrieked. “Are you trying to kill me?” At this point, he was convinced the kind gentleman was not so kind after all.
The grinding hurt. It was excruciating – producing the most severe pain he had ever endured.
Just as Harold concluded he couldn’t take it longer, the grinding stopped. The kind-unkind-gentleman put him back together again and tied a tag on his handle that said, “ready.”
Exhausted, Harold fell asleep, and awoke in the back of his master’s truck. They were heading home.
Upon arrival, Harold’s master lifted him out of the truck, set him on the ground and smiled. He pulled the starter cord, and Harold’s engine purred.
“OK little fellow,” the master said, “now we’re ready to cut some grass.”