That Damn Bridge

My parents are our neighbors.


We take care of them. We lift things. We dig holes. We help.


Everybody in our neighborhood knows this.


EVERYBODY.


One day my mom bought a wood bridge for her garden.


It was very heavy and had to be assembled. She asked if Tyler and I would do it for her since Tyler has a power screwdriver – he could do it quick.


He had planned to do it on a Tuesday night, but mom said that wasn’t a good day – she wouldn’t be home.


He planned to do it on a Wednesday night, but mom said she was tired.


He asked to come over on the weekend and do it, but mom said, “No” she would be out-of-town.


It rained the next week so that was out as well.

The following Sunday afternoon was the scheduled day to assemble the bridge.


Now don’t even get me started on why my mother had to be present in order for Tyler to assemble the bridge. She just wanted to be there and we shall leave it at that.


We even considered sneaking over and building it, but we didn’t want to get in trouble.


Saturday morning rolled around and Tyler, the girls and I were heading out of the house for the day. We walk outside and what do we see?


My mom and dad hauling the ridiculously heavy bridge box out of their garage to try to assemble it themselves.


THEMSELVES


Of course they could build it themselves. It would take 4 times as long and it would kill their backs and joints to screw in all 100 screws, but those people can be stubborn.


Tyler and I are not quiet people and for that matter, neither are my parents.


We started hollering at them, something to the effect of:


“What in God’s green earth are you doing? Can’t you wait one day? We said we would help you!  We will do it tomorrow!!”


And my parents found it quite funny that we were so irritated with them so they teasingly hollered back:


“That’s okay. You go. You go and have your fun. We will be fine. Don’t worry about us.”


Those statements were totally laced with guilt. They have perfected it over the years.


So we laughed and left. We had places to go and people to see.


Just as we left we saw the man across the street start to walk over to my parent’s yard.


This Neighbor Man is a nice guy, but it is not like we are all BFF’s.


We wave and nod “Hello.” On occasion there is a “Hey what a gorgeous day.” But, that is really the extent of our relationship with him.


60 minutes later my mother calls me on my cell and tells me that he came over and INSISTED on assembling the bridge for them.


He built the bridge for MY parents.


MY PARENTS.


Mom had a nice laugh over that one. She thinks he overheard all of our yelling back and forth and thought we were being rude to them by not helping.


Little did he know how hard we tried to build that damn bridge.







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3 responses to “That Damn Bridge

  1. Lol! I love your parents! They are so funny! I can just two little old people trying to haul all sorts of heavy lumber to their garden….You have quite the nice neighbor though….

  2. Hehehehehe Well at least he freed up your Sunday! 😉

  3. Mommy on the Spot

    I HATE those comments that come out all "everything's honkey dorey over here, ha, ha, ha" but really just dripping with guilt.

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