I'm sitting here waiting for the truck to come pick up the drop box. The box has been sitting in front of our house since Wednesday. We have filled it to the brim every day, only to come out and find it half full each morning. It is the strangest thing, seeing the things we consider trash and worthy of toss-out something someone else would actually want. But I'm sure without the pickers and gleaners who've come thru, the box would be filled to overflowing. So they've actually saved us money, I'm sure. They have taken all our metal, including the deeply embedded steel pole that's been at our curbside for the past 20 years. Once upon a time it had a basketball backboard attached to it and I can still see the ghosts of the boy our son used to be and those of his childhood friends spending endless hours shooting hoop. I can still hear the thump of the basketball hitting against the backboard.
I am drowning in such memories.