| Landfills
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- Roger Kimble
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I went to the county landfill today. They are becoming almost mandatory if you have trash to get rid of, and that is a good thing. I had a pick-up truck about full, and it cost me $8.42 to leave the whole load. So, money-wise, it's not a bad deal. Included in my load were many things: a small tricycle, somewhat rusted now, but in its prime it was a bright red, and it would keep up with the wind and on its seat was a silver sticker which read Princeton Machinery Company, a sticker that was put there by Amanda's grandfather, who, like the tricycle, is gone now. Ollie, a bright yellow creature of unknown species with big eyes and four wheels. It was just the right height for a three or four year old, but it too had aged, its mane a mere whisper of its glory, and the eyes seemed somewhat sad now. It had not been ridden for so long a time, and I think it knew it was time to say goodbye. They know things like that. A baby pen that taught its occupant how to walk while holding on to its sides, it too at one time a bright yellow, and like Ollie, grown old and discolored, its only student of walking now striding and driving cars and so, not needed any longer, it too knew its days as a teacher and watcher over small fragile bodies had, as all things must, reached its final destination. A small swimmimg pool that served its little owner with joy. It had been the ocean, with waves coming into the beach, and it buoyed small ducks and other creatures on its gentle waves as it held its somewhat none-too-sure swimmer. At full depth, it was only four or five inches, but it was magic to its mermaid, as she played in the warm sun in its gentle and tropical waters. I left some other things too, all outgrown and assigned now to the misty realm of memories. All these things I left, for only $8.42. They didn't know about the tear. |