This morning I dreamt I awoke from my nap to find someone had strewn our garbage across the front lawn placing it on display for the entire neighborhood. I felt it made the house look tasteless and unkempt. It was not until later that I realized these bits of garbage lying open and unprotected on the sodden earth amongst throngs of decaying sienna maple leaves were actually bits of my life. Although it is February the climate was that of fall, chilly, damp and windy. With each step I took, the ground released its water-logged grass and mud tying my trash to the land.
Forgetting the chilled air, and in nothing but a t-shirt and jeans, I frantically began piercing and collecting each immobile, rotten piece of yesterday returning it to its rightful place in a thick, black trash bag.
My sisters called out from the front door to persuade me to put on a coat and forget the mess. Returning these sodden, decaying memories to their rightful place was of utmost importance. I hurried up the front path and ripped the coat from my sister’s hand. “Watch the baby” I instructed as I returned to my task.