If Trash Could Only Talk

If trash could talk, what would it say?

We can gather a lot of excess baggage in our journeys through life. It's not something we necessarily work to gather. It just seems to effortlessly appear, but getting rid of it may take a lot of work. Tossing old stuff into the barrel easy; convincing myself to let go of it is harder.

But that's what I was doing the other day... when some of that junk began to speak to me. Here's what I heard.

Years ago we had a Cocker Spaniel we dearly loved. Her name, "Smiley," aptly described her personality, and it still hurts a little to think of her. I had fabricated a special hose so we could wash her in the bathtub. She's been gone for years, so I tossed the hose. That's when it wisely admonished me, "Quit hanging on to old hurts and move on."

When we left our little house on Leacrest Drive in 1980, I packed a box of hardware items I intended to use--but never got around to doing anything with them. Out they went, chattering as they went plopped into the can. "Why grieve over trivial things you should have done but didn't?"

I really hated to chunk an almost-new timer from the Sears washer we had for 25 years. When the washer wore out, I was sure that $125 replacement timer should be salvaged. But since it doesn't fit our new washer, what good is it? I couldn't believe my ears to hear it say, "No need to hang on to a past that won't be a part of the future."

Time was when I did a lot of my own work on the car, and a few relics from that era have continued to consume shelf space. Take the brake hone. Please. It was supposed to save me a sack of money because I could repair leaky brake cylinders myself. The "saving" part was only a pipe dream, but I did learn one more thing I'd rather pay someone else to do. "Grand plans that never materialized don't deserve to cause regret," expounded the hone.

Then there was the homemade dwell meter that I faithfully used to adjust the points on our car. But our cars now don't have points. The dwell meter has lost its relevance and can't affect the future one bit. When I heard it say, "Don't make a big deal out of something that won't make a difference," I was able turn it loose.

I feel streamlined and lighter after this catharsis. The junk is gone, and I don't miss any of it. It should have been tossed out years ago. Wouldn't it be wonderful if I could clean out some of the "excess baggage" of my life? Surely there are thoughts and feelings that could stand some purging, mental stuff that I would feel better to be shed of.

If trash could only talk... and I would listen.

Copyright 2000 James McAlister

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