I lug all my yesterdays to the front lawn. All mistakes and failed choices.
My husband says that most of this should go into the trash. He says the neighborhood has seen the things that I’ve done wrong. The wildflowers and the weeds I didn’t pull, that gobbled our front lawn. The dog poop I forgot to scoop, a not-so-fragrant pile. The snow I was too cold to shovel, so it turned to ice (we had to ice skate out the gate to pick up all our mail). The walks that I forgot to take, to say hello to neighbors.
Folks from all around dropped by to see what they could find. They didn’t bring their cash. Instead, they bartered with their sorrows for the booty on display.
By day’s end, my heavy past had disappeared. I was no longer bent below the woes I used to carry. Unfortunately, I was stuck with everybody else’s troubles.
I stuffed the mess in trash bags and piled them on the curb. My man was right, no need to keep the things we never needed.
published in Write Under the Moon
Comments