Every Wednesday morning our trash is picked up, so rightfully so, every Tuesday night I would roll the lumbering trash and recycle bins down the long driveway of the house and every Wednesday night I would roll the empty rumbling bins back to position for an approaching week of refuse.
The journey was not without it noise and on a course directly past the family room window where dad was logging his "chair" hours immersed in something stimulating like Cash Cab, or old Westerns.
I miss how every time (NOT every now and then), EVERY TIME I would return back to my spot on the adjacent couch he would breathlessly exclaim, "was that you? I thought it was a thunderstorm!".
Thing is, for a split second every week he really did believe that a rogue thunder cloud launched a siege on Danville Blvd in Alamo, until the second personal evaluation yielded the obvious trash night explanation.
I used to roll my eyes, and now I want it back!
