It Wasn't All Bad
Tuesday and Thursday nights.
School nights.
I'd get home around 3:30 p.m., do whatever homework I could fit in, change out of my school clothes into work clothes, have a snack or two, and then off Dad and I went to the Barlows to cut their grass.
The routine was always the same.
I remember the black Porsche Boxster in the front driveway and what seemed like a quarter acre of hills and grass.
The sun would still be high in the sky, making the air thick and heavy.
I used to think, “Hey, if I can save up this $5 an hour, work hard through the heat of summer evenings, that might be me driving that car someday.”
That vision of the shiny black Porsche glistening in the sun was a powerful motivator.
Conversely, I also used to think way more than twice a week, “What a pain this is.”
The sweat would drip down my back, and the hum of the lawnmower would become almost meditative, if not for the persistent buzzing of insects.
There was no getting out of it either, unless I wanted a size 10 foot up my—well, you get the point, I'm sure.
Dad wasn't one to tolerate complaints, and he had a way of making sure we finished what we started.
It wasn't all bad, though.
I learned a lot.
Looking back now as an adult, I never did get a Porsche, but I learned to live within my means, valuing my money while earning so little.
The discipline of saving and budgeting became ingrained in me.
I learned the value of an honest day's work, so now working a full-time job and pursuing my passion as an author isn't so daunting.
The lessons from those days stayed with me, shaping my work ethic and resilience.
Effort and earning came before what I thought I deserved.
Nothing was simply handed over.
That understanding has served me well in the long run, reminding me that success requires both patience and perseverance.
Author: Joseph Adomavicia
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