Christmas eve, Sue placed trash in the truck bed and jumped in.
“I’ll be right there,” Rudy said. “Just bringing stuff for the swap shop.”
In the rearview mirror, Sue saw the car seat, highchair, mobile. The pink trike, its little helmet swinging.
“But what if we need these?” Sue stared at Rudy.
He turned on the truck. In the driver’s seat, he looked straight ahead, saying nothing while they unloaded the trash and drove to the shed of giveaways. Sue wouldn’t help.
But as they left, Sue turned. A young father hugged the trike and looked up. How he smiled.
It puts me in mind of the “Death Agony of Capitalism” which talks about “living on the slops of a crumbling society.” One person’s trash is another person’s food but are we content to live like that? (That’s an unusually political remark for Christmas – normal service will be resumed as soon as possible!)
I am totally delighted that you read political commentary in this. I love that stories can be so layered., and you found a meta-layer. I actually live in a small NH town where there’s a spirit of giving usable, working items to whomever can benefit. But there’s a more immediate story I was telling at the moment. You, as a reader, definitely co-authored another story with me. I love that stories live between people and not just “by” one person.
Your story moved me Lisa. I could feel the loss of Sue and Rudy’s child. Very nice piece of writing.
how painful and poignant, especially at Christmas time.
Lovely and sad, Lisa. Beautifully reminiscent of Hemingway’s “baby shoes” story.
Their terse words and body language convey so much. I imagine what that father’s smile might mean to her.