Dumpster Girl

I woke with a start and sat up in bed. I tried to catch my breath. Did I oversleep? Slowly I lay back down and collected my thoughts. I looked at the time on the alarm clock. 6:17 a.m. I listened to the sounds in the house, to my husband’s quiet snores. Quiet. Peaceful. I finally relaxed and realized what day it was.

Carefully getting out of bed, I pulled on my robe and tucked my feet into slippers. Softly I tipped toed downstairs to the living room. With a click, the lights to the Christmas tree came alive. It stood tall in the corner glowing from the many lights. Beautiful, if I do say so myself.

Today was Christmas! I felt so blessed and excited to celebrate Christmas day this year as a married woman. I removed a gold ball ornament off the tree. Carrying it with me into the kitchen, I thought back to the day when I acquired it, and my husband.

During my last year of college, I lived in an apartment above a flower shop. I developed a daily routine to walk up the alley stairs to the second floor. The reason? Flowers. The storeowner would toss out flowers into a dumpster that weren’t good enough to sell, but they looked fine on my tiny kitchen table.

It was the day before Thanksgiving and I came home after classes around noon. I wasn’t going to dumpster-dive for flowers. I was leaving for home for the next four days. Then I thought it’d be nice to take some for the Thanksgiving table.

This time, among the flowers, were lots of Christmas ornaments. Realizing I didn’t have any and thought well, what a great time to start collecting some. A clear bag of shiny gold ball shaped ornaments tempted me. And just my luck! They were way down at the bottom of the smelly dumpster.

Nothing was going to stop me from getting those free ornaments. I stuffed my loose hair in my cap and then pulled it down tight around my head. I jumped so my body hinged on the edge, my arms stretched and reached way down to fetch the bag. I was getting a good grip on them when I heard someone clear their throat.

“Oh!” Started, I tumbled in.

A young man quickly came to the dumpster and looked down at me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

“Well, you did! I had no idea anyone was around.” I snapped. My stocking cap covered my eyes. I smelled something that wasn’t pleasant and saw some unidentified goop on my jeans.

“Are you all right?” He offered me his hand and pulled me out. He was tall and thin, but he had a lot of strength. He practically lifted me out.

“Sure,” I said when my feet touched the ground. I pushed my stocking cap out of my eyes.

“Why are you digging around in our trash?”

“Your trash? I…” Panic hit me. Was it illegal to dumpster dive?

He looked at me closer. “I’ve noticed you before. You live in 2B, right?”

I could only nod my head yes. Great! Now the cops knew where to find me.

“My uncle owns this place.”

More bad luck, the nephew caught me.

“Oh, I see,” I said, finally, feeling my face turn red.

“Find what you need?” Was there a hint of laughter behind that question? I could have sworn there was a twinkle in his eye. Twinkle or not, he held me spell-bound with his beautiful brown eyes. I felt an instant attraction, but I didn’t think it was mutual.

“Um…yeah. I didn’t have any for my tree,” I explained. Feeling very foolish, I looked down and mumbled, “Here.” I pushed the sack into his hand. “Gotta go. See ya.”

As I started to run up the steps, he called, “Hey, dumpster girl, I won’t tell if…”

Dumpster girl? I stopped. Turning, I fearfully asked, “If what?”

He handed back the sack. “If you’ll go out with me.”


I heard my husband’s footsteps coming down the stairs bringing me back to the present. My husband. My heart swelled with love and I gave the gold ball a quick kiss.


JOY TO THE WORLD

The man aimlessly walked the crowded street of shoppers. Cold hands stuffed his coat pockets. An unimportant dusting of snow fell earlier, making the air crisp, clean. His eyes scanned large display windows, their message proclaiming luring phrases “You’ve got to have this’ or “You’ve got to have that”. A cup of soup would be nice, he prayed.

THE LORD IS COME

“Move along, bum,” growled a deep throated voice of the warmly dressed officer. The unwashed face of the ‘bum’ looked up. Without a word, he rose up from the step of the barbershop. He continued down the street. The evening was getting late.

LET EARTH RECEIVE HER KING

He was colder now and prayed for a cup of coffee to go with the soup. Standing outside a fancy coffee place, in front of his hat, waiting for dropped coins. People paraded by laughing, ignoring. Was he a mere lamppost? An inanimate object?

LET EVERY HEART PREPARE HIM ROOM

Finally, enough coins. He thumped his arms across his body, trying to get the circulation going. Stamping his feet, he finally felt his toes. Casey’s Diner wasn’t far. His heart was thankful.

AND HEAV’N AND NATURE SING

“Hi Ben. Want the usual?” His angel, disguised as a waitress, knew his name. He nodded, too cold for small talk. He sat in his usual spot. She brought the coffee first. Inhaling the steam, the warmth spreading through his gloves, he said a quiet ‘thank you.” Her eyes full of pity were on him. No need. He was having coffee and soup tonight.

AND HEAV’N AND NATURE SING

“Here’s the soup, Ben.” She stood waiting, wanting something. What? Oh yes, the money. He laid out his coins, leaving a tip because he felt blessed. He finished his feast while a cranky jukebox sang the refrain of the Christmas carol over and over and over. Gathering in all the warmth, it was time to move on.

AND HEAV’N AND HEAV’N AND NATURE SING


Aunt Kim's Homecoming


My mom got a call from Aunt Kim. She wanted to visit and spend the night and see everyone. Dad was upset. ‘You can’t let that woman stay here. She will just cause trouble,’ he fumed. All ready, Aunt Kim was getting people stirred up and she wasn’t even around.

I don’t know the whole history; maybe I should say the true story as to why she left town. Aunt Kim, a fantastic sprinter, set records all through high school and college. People say I run like Aunt Kim. I have to admit, she is still my idol.

Once Kim left college she stayed in touch very little, mostly with Grandma. But she never came back much to the dislike of the family. And it got worse when Grandma died. Kim refused to come home for the funeral. She was in Europe at a track meet and could have flown home. Kim refused to talk to any of the family for months. That alone fueled the resentment. No one understood why, so she was labeled selfish, inconsiderate, and hateful.

I saw Kim first at the airport. Animal magnetism described the tall, thin and beautiful woman walking towards me. Her hair was cut short in a stylish curl. Her jeans, t-shirt and shoes looked ordinary, but she made them look like 5th Avenue class.

Our eyes finally connected. I felt a tugging in my heart. My aunt Kim was finally home.

“Hi Aunt Kim. Welcome home,”

“Jill, sweet Jill,” and she wasted no time giving me a fierce hug. Releasing me she looked around for the others. I saw her disappointment as she bit her lower lip.

“Aunt Kim, they couldn’t get away, but everyone is anxious to see you,” I lied to her.

Quickly I added. “Gosh! You look great!” to smooth her ragged feelings. Personally, I wanted to shake all my other aunts and uncles, and especially my mom. How could they still be so cold and hateful?

The drive home was just what I expected. Kim talked and talked. She talked about the trip home. She talked about her new job. She asked if I was still dreaming about winning an Olympic medal. Just about everything, like a dam busted open and words and thoughts gushed out as fast as she could talk. I imagine she felt no one would give her a chance later. At the house, there would be nothing but accusations.

I also knew Kim was afraid.

I pulled up my driveway and turned off the car. Kim sat silent viewing in the yard, trees, and the house. We sat there for the long time. Finally she talked about Grandma while looking at the old, overgrown rosebush outside the house’s a big picture.

“Jill, I couldn’t come home. I couldn’t let her go…I mean, never talk to her again? I…I got scared. She’s the only thing that kept me going. She’d say ‘Kimmie, you must work hard. God gave you talent, but you must still work hard. Harder than anyone. Don’t waste what God gave you. Push yourself because you have a dream for the Olympics’.”

We sat there in silence. I knew what she meant. Grandma told everyone not to waste God given talents. Family, friends, even strangers, she’d encourage people that way. That’s why it affected all of us when grandma passed away. It would have been easier to ignore it, pretend it didn’t happened. But we didn’t. At that moment I realized something.

“Aunt Kim, I love you to pieces, you’ve always been my favorite. But what you did was wrong, not coming back, not being with family, when we were all so sad and trying to deal with it. You’re a part of this family. You took the easy way out. You should have just come back!”

I got out of the car and sat on the porch. What was a warm day was now cooling off. Crickets were playing their evening song and a playful breeze wafted over the roses. Kim came to sit beside me. I saw her take deep breathes of the aroma from the flowers.

“You’re right, Jill. I didn’t want to face the sadness. I’m a coward. I have always done my best to avoid the ugly, the unpleasant things. Staying away allowed me look at her picture and pretend she was sitting in her rocker, by the rose bush, reading the Bible, praying for me.”

I couldn’t control the tears and I took my aunt in my arms. Together we wept sitting next to Grandma’s rosebush.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 09.12.2009

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