Trash pickup has never been an eventful day for me. I don't even take the cans out, just notice them as I leave, thankful that my husband takes care of things like that. This Monday morning was a bit different though, with me actually considering taking a photo of our trash- and then almost tearing up when I realized they had just taken it away and I didn't even see them load it.
Just a few days ago I decided that we really did need to get rid of the dirty broken jeep that has been in our yard. Even though Ben likes to sit in it, it needed to go. No big deal. Sunday night I dragged it to the front, glad to have it gone. But the next morning, I had a moment of questioning if I could really get rid of it, as Ben saw it through the window and wondered why it was there.
It's just a silly 4+ year old kids toy, but it is in the last (and one of the only) photos I have of Drew with Austin. It was from the last Christmas Austin was with us. Watching Drew's eyes light up, a sweet 4 year old so happy to see what Santa had brought, with family around that he loved. It was a special moment as a mom. And as a sister too, as I saw my brother share in it.
But I let it go, because it isn't the memory, just a yellow piece of plastic. The photo and the memory remains. But it didn't stop me from walking out into the driveway to see it drive away one last time.
