Garbage in but not garbage out

On my morning walk, I encountered a tow-headed two-year-old caught up in unbridled enthusiasm. The garbage truck had arrived.

The sights and sounds of the hulking vehicle triggered jumping, flailing and cheering. A moment of religious ecstasy.

With its day glow greenish-yellow vested workers, its red striped roaring engine, and the best part, the churning jaws digesting the refuse. The garbage truck put on a show for free.

Seeing this child’s uncontrollable fervor brought a smile to my face. And a pause in my journey.

Instead of sticking my fingers in my ears to block the sound of the loud chomp, as the gaping maw tore through the plastic bags of trash. Or plugging my nose to stem the stench, I stood there and watched the garbage truck and the small child.

For the remainder of my walk, I thought about this witnessed moment of joy.

And wondered…how many early mornings have we cursed the trash men’s interruption of our sleep? How many times have we blamed them for spewing our rubbish after emptying the barrels? Or tooted our horn to speed them up when they block the street?

This small child would have done none of that. This small child would have sang and twirled to glimpse, for even a moment, a garbage truck.