Today, I found myself standing before a pile of yard debris in my backyard. Most would just see sticks and trash, but I saw the close of a chapter, the echoes of a grieving family. Earlier last week, my neighbor and I cleaned the debris in front of an overgrown yard that used to resemble that of a hoarder. A few years ago, this elderly man still had people come to his house to fix what they couldn’t; able-bodied people would stop by and pay him, and he took five minutes to walk a hundred feet to greet them at the front door. The vehicles and parts grew to be more than the old man could handle, burdening him and the yard. After he was gone, there was no more beckoning call at the fence line and the scooting of the old man, but the vehicles, parts, and trash remained until one day a group of much younger men with a similar smile came, cleaned the yard, mowed the grass, and placed most of the branches and trash in a pile in front of the house. The yard was given a breath of new life, and as neighbors, we were optimistic about what was to come. Seasons came and went; snow, rain, and sun covered the debris until one day more trash was added to the heap. It burned our nostrils; as neighbors, we could no longer wait, and we went to work. It amounted to three truck beds full: two to the dump and the third to the backyard, where I stood before a pile almost as tall as me, staring back. Everyone saw trash, even as it was added, and as neighbors, we only noticed when it became grotesquely offensive. But in that moment, I saw more than a pile before me; I was hit with a wall as offensive, if not worse. I was witnessing the byproduct of being forgotten: the world’s forward momentum, the consuming fire coming from all of us. This man was useful, and as soon as he could no longer provide, people stopped beckoning at the fence; now the forest gets to redeem the house, there’s no sign of his usefulness, and the world will be none the wiser. I am also like that man; people come beckoning at my fence. As I stood there at the debris pile, I wondered how fast I too would be forgotten.
Leave a comment