My recycling bin is situated behind the door from the kitchen to the garage. Jayme built a little perch for it back there, and it is perfectly out of the way, yet readily accessible. He's brilliantly handy. :) The thing is, it is BEHIND the door when I open the door. So to use the recycling bin, I have taken to stretching my arm out so that my hand is past the edge of the open door, and then just using my wrist to fling the recyclables inside. I do this constantly. Sometimes a dozen times a day. We are big recyclers here!
At night, when it is dark in the garage, I don't even turn the light on, just stick out my arm, and "wrist-fling" the glass, paper, or plastic inside. I always hear the familiar tone of the thuds as I make it in. Occasionally I hear the sound of it hitting, bouncing out, and rolling onto the garage floor. I always hope that is on a Monday night, because that means the bins are full, and recycling pick up is on Tuesday.
Last Tuesday night, I reached my arm out into the darkness of the garage (rinsed out yogurt container in hand) and my only thought was, " I hope there are no zombies out there tonight". I extended my arm, flicked my wrist, and heard the sound of the container hitting the back wall of the garage. It sort of stopped me in my tracks. I NEVER hear that sound. It didn't take me long, I mean, I am not the smartest person but obviously the bin was not there. I realized that it had rained all day, and that neither Jayme nor I had had brought it in from the curb all day. With a shrug, I turned on all of the lights, checked for zombies, and walked out through the garage to the curb and retrieved the bins. I deposited the yogurt container in the top bin before I went back inside, happy that things were back where they belonged.
For some reason, my faith in those recycling bins stuck in my head all night. Those bins are always there. I don't look, or wonder, or even hope they will be there. In fact, they are there so much, that I am shocked when they are not there even just once. I expect them to be where I need them to be. (I know this is like way over analytical for some smelly old recycling bins, but I cannot help where my mind takes me, so hopefully you can bear with me). I haven't got faith in many people, like I have in those bins. I don't know why. I was never, like, majorly scarred by anyone. But, I have had a culmination of little things that may have etched away at my trust tendencies. I have lived far from family for many years, so though I know I could count on them anytime and anywhere, they are just not here. Plus, I have been hurt by churches, and pastors, and friends who turned out to be just "friends". I count on my little family, and my handful of close friends. Beyond that, it is a world of strangers.
There was never a conscious decision to keep people at arm's length, but I have. I have trusted in my green bins more than I have trusted in people. That doesn't seem right.
Or, maybe its just me.
This has been my recycling bin revelation.
:)
