Momnesia

Life is Made of Small Moments

Augusta, GA. -

Emmie is fascinated by the trash collection truck, with its giant motorized claw to dump the trash cans into the compactor. Every Tuesday and Friday she's at the window, clapping, for the driver. "Yay! He's doing it!"

Last Friday, though, she roused me off my sickbed (the couch) with a belly laugh I haven't heard in a while.

"He drop da trash can!"

I peered out the window to see the large green container on its side, claw hand grasping fruitlessly at the air where it had been. Slowly, the driver worked the claw into position, and tried to pick the can up, only to drop it again. I smiled as Emmie burst into new gales of laughter. The driver wasn't visible from our vantage point, so to her, a robot truck was having trouble adjusting to an unexpected quirk in its environment.

But I knew there was a guy out there in the cold and rain, trying to get our stupid can back up so he could finish his route on time. I slid my shoes on and started for the door, only to see the claw get a firm grip on the can. He wouldn't be needing my help after all. I slid my shoes back off.

But before I could turn around, a glitch in the claw's handling sent the trash can flying end-over-end - 15 yards, at least - across the lawn! I doubled over laughing with Emmie. Oh, the flying trash can! That sight would stay with me a while.

I slide my shoes on, still hooting with laughter, and stumbled down the stairs. I reached the trash can and righted it just as the driver came around the front of the truck, also laughing.

"Dude! You invented the flying garbage can!"

He chuckled, "I don't know what was going on there!"

I got the impression that, like me, he'd be giggling to himself over this at odd moments for the rest of the day.

Emmie was sitting on the front steps, still belly laughing: "You fro da trash can!" she shrieked with delight, and the driver and I burst into new gales of laughter.

"That was fun to watch, man. Thanks," I said.
He grinned: "You're welcome."

We shook hands.

"Have a nice day," I called, as I walked back to the front door, shivering.
"You, too," he called.

I'm still giggling about it a week later.