Dumpsters

At 10 AM yesterday, the three friendly stalwarts climbed up into the red truck cabin after hoisting the huge dumpster up off the pavement onto its trolley. We had worked together for an hour. The 30-yard canister was full to its brim. It had a 5 ton capacity. 

I'd never contributed to filling a huge dumpster before. My mother had worked hard to accumulate well over 5 tons of junk in her modest house of many closets and two attics. I used to tease her about bringing a dumpster into her driveway and emptying the house while she was away. She would raise her chin and say, "You'll just have to wait until I'm dead." And here I am.

I sat in the kitchen after seeing off the three workers. One of them was interested in the house. I had given them a tour of the emptied, but still adequately furnished, house.They were careful not to touch anything. We were all pretty grubby from the dirt and 90-degree heat of the day.

As I sipped a well-earned cup of strong coffee, I looked at the Summer light coming through windows, freed of heavy curtains and dirty old blinds. The floors gleamed from being washed and buffed. A pang of sadness passed through me as I remembered my very old mother nodding off in a dark, dusty room in front of a blasting TV. Her hoarded treasure was out of her reach up in attics she was too weak to get into. The beautiful bones of her house were hidden under dust, funky old carpeting and piles of papers everywhere.

Later I cleaned out and polished her dowry chest after emptying the last remnants of hidden things. I ran a cloth over its Chippendale legs. I found myself thinking, "I loved you as best I could, as much as you would allow me to." With that thought, I experienced yet another deep release.

Dumpsters have always seemed scary as they barrel past my tiny car on the highway. I will not look at them the same again. I will think of my three saviors with sweating faces of honest work who liberated me from my mother's trashy treasure. As we cleared it away, we exchanged jokes and platitudes about life's impermanence. They left me lighter than when they came. They helped me get on with a new chapter of my life.