One Man's Trash...

On account of my growing concern for Mom's brittle bones, I've been trying to make her go for morning walks. As of now, her exercise consists only of spontaneous dance moves and fits of laughter. I can wrap my fingers around her ankles. I'm worried about that skinny white girl.

A few days ago, on a warm sunny morning, I convinced her to circle the block with me. We set off in the sun, talking about cats and other people's love-lives. Just a handful of houses into our walk I saw it, glistening in orange splendor, a beacon of light among grubby recycle-ables. I pointed and I sneered. A fit of laughter consumed the both of us and immediately, we had the same thought.
We must take this gem.

We finished our walk, the conversation focused entirely on what we can do with our new trash find. As we rounded the corner and headed back to The Pile we heard a familiar roar. High pitched screeching pierced the silent morning. Birds abandoned their nests and squirrels sought refuge on the highest tree limbs. The roar got louder. Mom and I looked back in horror.

"It's the recycling truck!" Mom screamed. "Run Laura! Hurry!"

And so I ran. My little blue shoes slapped the warm, black tar with every frantic step. Many a garbage truck has been outrun by a member of the Union family. I'd been trained for this day.

I closed the gap between me and The Gem. Oh what a gem. When I saw it from a distance, peeking out from the pile, it struck me again. I let out a blast of cackles, doubled over while I ran.
"How ridiculous." I thought and looked back to see the recycling truck just behind Mom who was also bent at the waist in stitches.

Finally I reached the pile and scooped up Wilhelmina with tears in my eyes. She was heavy and cumbersome. I carried her from the debris like a baby, cradling her chest in my arms. I scrambled away from the pile in time to receive a strange look from the truck driver and meet Mom in the road, the both us giggling like school girls.

We welcomed Wilhelmina to our home with open arms, though her stay was brief. We put her right to work. I strapped her into my passenger seat and drove her straight to Ellen's front porch where Wilhelmina patiently waited to be discovered.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Wilhelmina Pigglesworth.

Standing at roughly two feet tall, Wilhelmina makes quite the porch ornament. Our instincts in this case were correct and Ellen's discovery of Willy on her front steps brought on teary-eyed confusion. I came down the stairs the next morning to find Wilhelmina peering in our front window. Yesterday we had Ellen drop Ms. Pigglesworth on another important porch, though we've yet to hear any feedback.

Wilhelmina Pigglesworth. Oh the places you'll go.