The afternoon had turned unseasonably hot, and I was in a rush. Since I retired, I usually spend my days in tank tops and yoga pants, barefoot, while I write. But for lunch at a nice restaurant across town? I dressed up in a white silk blouse and velvet pants.
I had parked in front of my house, and the car parked in front of mine was way too close for me to squeeze between the bumpers without risking a smudge on my blouse, so I headed the other way, the back way. Around the big bush, a small tree, and an odd-shaped plot of grass, then around the rear of the car to the driver’s side.
But along the obstacle course, something stopped me.
Not long after he left, lightning struck the taller tree.
The Discovery
In that little plot of grass is the water meter for my house, and it’s deep inside a metal enclosure, the top of which is even with the ground so that Sean, my lawn guy, can mow right over it every week. The lid on top is heavy and always closed unless the meter reader for the city has it open.
Today, it was open. No one in sight.
On my way around the back of the car, I noticed that not only was it open, but the heavy lid had fallen at an angle so that anybody might step into it and break an ankle.
But I was in a hurry. I saw it and immediately knew the danger and had a quick argument in my head.
You can’t be late.
You’re going to get sweaty out here and get your hands dirty, maybe even your blouse.
It’s off the sidewalk and out of the way—it’s not like anybody’s going to step in it.
Someone else can fix it.
I’m certainly not going to step on it and fall in it, and it’s unlikely that anyone else will either.
Then I remembered the elderly neighbor across the street, who sometimes takes shortcuts when he’s walking his dogs.
No. Even if I weren’t in my silk blouse, I’d never forgive myself if Joe stepped in that hole and fell which, at his age—and even at mine—could be life-altering.
I texted my friends that I was running late, and I’d explain why later. They know how much I hate being late, so I hoped they’d understand.
Once I was able to lift the heavy cover, it took me seven tries and two very dirty hands before I was able to get the cover back in place. I had to be careful not to pinch my fingers while finding the groove the lid sat in. I managed not to get my clothes covered in either grease or rust, but if anyone saw me, I’m sure I looked like a cross between a granny shot on a basketball court and a yoga crow pose, trying to balance on my foot and an injured left knee.
Once the lid clunked into place and was secure, I wiped my hands on a spare hand towel I keep in the car for emergencies and then washed my hands as soon as I arrived at the restaurant.
Satisfied, and now happy to see my friends, I didn’t think anything about that open hole to the meter and the danger it had posed. Everything had been set right in the world, even if it had no effect on me whatsoever. I had taken care of my neighbors and even any strangers who might wander past my house and into the grass.
The Return
At 10 PM that night, Alexa reminded me to go to bed and not forget to take out the trash. At 2 AM, I finished working on what I was working on because, hey, I was on a roll. Barefoot, I ran outside to move my garbage bins to the street. Someone had parked directly in the path, so I went the long way to leave the bins behind my usual spot for pickup.
When I came back, I cut through the yard, running as fast as I could because the streetlight was out and it was, after all, 2 AM. For a split second that I didn’t even realize until after I was well past it, my bare foot landed on something cold and metal.
Something I had replaced.
It wasn’t my job to clean it up. It wasn’t likely to affect me. But even though I didn’t realize it at the time, it certainly could’ve made my life a lot harder if I had ignored it.
And that’s the lesson today, my friends. Not every important fix comes with a line of sight to personal benefit. Sometimes the smartest thing you can do for the customer, the team, or the mission is handle the preventable problem while it is still inconvenient instead of waiting until it becomes expensive, political, or dangerous.
A Southern witch returns home. Secrets won’t stay buried. A chance to confront and heal—or face the consequences.
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