I was honing my skills in using the week fork which is a
sharpened V-shaped metal tip mounted to a three foot wooden handle, the right
length for prying up those most stubborn weeds.
I had mounded up a large pile of weeds from the Bermuda when I happened
to look up and see Flattery standing on the porch, leaning on the wooden
colonial rail. He’d been watching me for
how long I don’t know but he was waiting for the look. That’s when he made his move and stepping off
the porch he made his way carefully down the steep driveway.
I can’t say that I blame him for standing on the porch, in
the shade, because one look at my sweat covered face and clothes would give a
normal person pause about coming out into the direct sun. Flattery was now standing beside me and
motioning for a turn with the weed fork, I handed the tool over to him and
stepped back to watch. Carefully and
with two hands just as he had seen me wield the instrument he dug into the Bermuda, pushing the sharp tip into a green mass. Then stooping over while holding the handle
with his left hand he reached with his right near the metal prongs and pulled up
a small patch of grass. It was not weeds
mind you, it was grass.
I stood there, sweating, watching, returning Flattery’s
smile as he turned his face to look over his shoulder at me with an expectant look. The sound he made could be audible to anyone
but only translated by me into the statement which he was making…”See dad, I
can do it too.”
I am sometimes desperate for Father Flattery to show up but
then sometimes I see him even when I’m not looking for him. I think his message to me is to be
expectant. I wonder what Father Flattery’s
message to you might be?
