The Power of a Garbage Truck

Yesterday morning, as I got ready for work, I heard the familiar sound of a Wednesday morning- the garbage truck. This huge, loud truck with its loud, yelling workers, shows up every week around the same time and I usually think nothing of it. Yesterday was different. Yesterday the truck arrived and brought with it a flood of memories and reflection on the evolution of our little family.

We have lived in this house for 7 and 1/2 years. Haley was 2 and 1/2 and Ryan wasn't a thought yet. For the first few years I dreaded the sound of that garbage truck for many reasons. Let me explain that the truck pulls up right on the side of our house which is right outside our window, which we keep open most nights. It's LOUD.

In our early years the sound of that truck approaching pulled me from a dead sleep (usually because I had been up nursing or tending to a crying baby or changing barfed on sheets) into full on action mode. I would pop up and rush to close the windows and then pray and hope that the crashing of the bins and yelling from the guys would not wake my sleeping babes. Because once they were awake, they were AWAKE.

Then came the time when the sound of that truck approaching was a sound heard after already being up and awake for awhile. Ryan woke up around 5:30 and by the time the truck came he was dressed and fed and ready for the day. It used to feel like the truck came in the middle of the night and during this time it felt like late morning. We would hear the engine pulling into the driveway and rush to the window to watch the guys and stood in wonder of the huge truck. The workers would wave at us and wish us a good morning. We would point at all the parts and make guesses of what other stinky garbage was in that huge dumpster.

Yesterday morning that truck pulled in. I was the only one awake. I was brushing my teeth and realized the fact that I was not rushing to close the windows or running to the window to wave.

I just brushed my teeth and smiled.