Evelyn called. Three times.
Each time, she wanted to know if I was going to pick up her garbage that night on my way home from work. Which of course I was going to do – it was my turn, even though I was already running on the fumes of my very last ounce of energy. I assured her yet again that I would be there later.
And it’s true, I was slightly resentful about the whole thing….all the way up until the moment I walked into Evelyn’s house and she grasped my hand and looked up at me with an exuberant smile.
And then it was clear: She could not have cared less about her garbage.
I sat down and we had a brief and refreshing conversation unbounded by real life — and when I left, I actually felt lighter, as though maybe Evelyn had really taken my garbage and not the other way around.