We need more trash

As I drove down the street I noticed a neighbor having a garage sale. I had never met this neighbor and she had some interesting things so I slowed to a stop and emerged from the car. I quickly glanced over her books, pillows and clothing and decided there wasn't anything I just couldn't live without. As I started to walk away I spoke to the neighbor and told her I hoped her sale was good. She smiled and I told her I was a neighbor just down the street, second house from the dead end. She smiled and replied yes, you live next to the DeLongs. I agreed but said that had been a while a nice older man lived there now. She replied yes, yes, he does. You are the woman whose son died. I paused for a moment and rolled that around in my brain, The woman whose son died. It seemed so strange to hear those words. It has been three and half years so to be identified as that was just so unfamiliar to me. I lingered there for a moment longer while I noticed the woman still looking at me and quickly added, Yes, yes, I am. Jacob, his name is Jacob. She nodded and then moved on to a paying customer while I continued to ponder her words. As I stood there thinking, the woman whose son died, another woman walked up and said my name. As I struggled to think where I knew her from she quickly pointed out we had meet at a house show she had had for Kyler. You are his mom aren't you? Yes, yes I replied I am Kyler's mom. We talked about our children and then parted ways. A woman whose son died and Kyler's mom. I have always found so much of my self in my children. So who am I now? Yes, I am still their mom but they have left, each in their own way. So who am I? I continued to ponder this as I went home and began planting flowers I had bought. As I weeded and made way for their new home, I began to think. I detest weeding because I do not like sweat pouring down my face and my newly manicured nails filling with dirt and grime underneath. But the main reason is I allow myself to go to places I never venture anymore. I begin to think What? What would he be like if he were still alive? Would he be teaching at Yukon High School with a following of students who thought being a teacher and rapper were beyond belief? Would he be married to the love of his life, Torri. I still dream of her being my daughter in law. She loved being in our family even more sometimes than the boys did. I miss her. I miss him. Would they have children with freckles sprinkled across their noses with deep blue eyes and locks of golden hair. Would he visit often and ask for advice? Would he still come into the room and pick me up with his arms wrapped around me and say, "Just give me a big hug" as I tried to wiggle free? Would he... Then I pull myself from the thoughts that haunt me while I weed. I will never know. Those dreams died that day too. I slowly get up and take the empty pots to the trash when I realize the big green trash can is empty. I quickly begin to count back on my fingers how many days have passed since the trash men came. 1 2 3 4 5. 5 days since the can was sat back down completely empty. And then I begin to cry. An empty trash can, no sign of life. Our neighbor is an elderly man who lives alone. On the nights when I push his can to the street and it is so very light with one half bag full of trash my heart breaks. Ours is overflowing and I quietly take a couple of bags from ours and place them gently in his. No trash, no life. I don't want his can to be so empty when ours is overflowing. Our house full of laughter and people coming and going all hours all night. The can is full and life is abundant. But today our can was empty. Our lives feel so very empty. We need more trash. No more working til late night hours to avoid the quiet. No more eating a bowl of cereal instead of sitting at a table for 5 that feels over sized for a family of two. No more sitting at the tv to keep minds which once entertained free from the memories. No more. No more wishing and praying that times would return. We need more life we need more trash.