Willing to Discard

Dearest Rachel –

Well, it’s Tuesday, honey, and you know what that means. No, we’re not picking up dinner from Taco Bell; while I didn’t mind the place in the slightest, that was still more your thing than mine or Daniel’s. I’ve probably been there fewer times since you left than I have fingers on both hands, despite having a couple of gift cards for the place that I still haven’t used. It doesn’t help that they’ve dispensed with their breakfast offerings, and the one nearest to our house (which you and Chompers would occasionally walk to in order to meet me on my way home from work) has closed up for good and been replaced with a halal restaurant, of all things. And on top of that, the soda flavor that was the real reason you kept coming back is now available in stores… and other places.

No, Tuesday happens to be garbage day in our little corner of the village, as it has been since long before you had to leave. It was a longstanding ritual for us to return home from our volunteering at Sparks and check the bins to see if they needed to be dragged out to the curb. Half the time, it wasn’t necessary; and even less so when considering the recycling bin (which was, after all, about twice as capacious, so it took longer to fill up, even as you insisted on recycling as much as possible of our refuse – after washing it first, of course).

These days, on the other hand, it’s almost inevitable that I’m having to haul out the trash bin. Not only that, more often than not – like this time around – I’m having to drag out an additional, separate bag that won’t fit in the bin itself. Most Monday nights, I don’t give the matter much thought; it’s just a task that needs to be done, and the sooner that it is, the sooner I can come back inside and unwind from the evening (not that the evening got me all wound up or anything, but whatever). Somehow, while dragging out that extra bag (which had been literally taking up space in the kitchen for a day or two – we could barely close the cabinet drawer containing the bin, it was so near to overflowing), I couldn’t help but ponder the fact that we’re throwing out so much more than we used to, and I’m not sure how you would have taken it.

Granted, when compared to the days when I was cleaning out the house after your passing and before the remodeling, what we’re carting out to the curb is as nothing. It’s just the little bin for ordinary rubbish, and, in this case, a single extra white bag. It’s not like I’m filling dumpsters with stuff to be disposed of; at least, not anymore. With that having been said, it shouldn’t be anything worth commenting on, let alone writing to you about.

But just the fact that we have so much to take out now on a regular basis struck me as odd in that moment. Back in the day, as I mentioned, we wouldn’t need to roll anything out but every other week; now, it’s guaranteed that we have to take it (or, more often than not, them) out every week. Again, this isn’t a complaint; barring the most bitter cold of Monday evenings, which we’re finally coming out of, this isn’t much of a chore. Indeed, the real chore is making sure that the boys’ area in the family room is cleared of detritus – and that said detritus is bagged and binned appropriately – which is mostly an inside job.

Then again, that may be part of the answer. Sure, there are but three of us in the house, just like back in the day, but let’s face it; Logan is nothing like you. For starters, he’s much more autonomous from me or Daniel than you would be. What trash you would generate would generally be in concert with the two of us; you almost made none of your own. Logan, by contrast, will buy his own food and make his own messes in his own space – which, to his credit, he will clean up on a regular basis, even if that regularity covers an extended period of time (which is to say, less often than we have Kris over to clean the rest of the house).

And when I say he buys his own food, that’s where the big difference lies. For all the jokes that could be made about me being twice the person you were (especially at my peak; at this point, I think I’m well below that, and have been since late 2023, when I met my license weight and never looked back from there), Logan is that much more so, to be honest. The amount of stuff he purchases to maintain his figure eclipses not only what you would consume in the same amount of time, but what either Daniel and I tend to – although I’ll stop short of saying he could out-eat the two of us combined (even though I’m trying not to eat as much, while Daniel doesn’t need to try). It’s not helped by the fact that he orders delivery on a regular basis, as well; while it’s certainly his prerogative to do with his own money what he pleases (as long as he keeps up with the rent), I will say that the packaging tends to result in that much more waste in the process.

At the same time, it may just be the fact that we’re just willing to discard that much more than we used to as the three of us. After purging the house with Jan, followed by regular monthly house cleanings with Kris, we’re just trying to, maybe not so much to keep things ‘tidy’ as to prevent the piles from building up like they used to. Sure, we have our little spots, like the dining room table, which is covered with Daniel’s Ramune bottles (which we need to talk to Ellen about someday) and the sunroom, which has a collection of books from Ellen’s mom that hopefully either Kerstin or Erin will be interested in, but for the most part, we don’t have the piles of stuff throughout the place – and I think we’d just as soon keep it that way.

Please don’t take this as a slur upon your housekeeping, honey. I’m sure you thought you would eventually use everything you kept (assuming you could find it again when you needed it). And I know how you hated to lose anything that you thought might be of service again at some point. But once you lose something as important as someone, the stuff just isn’t that important to hang onto, and it’s easy to let go of. Especially when all it’s doing is cluttering up the house. It may well be that, given where you are – and that you can’t access anything left behind down here at any rate – you understand this now, too, but I can’t help but wonder how you feel about these changes in our approach to things these days.

In any event, I need to get on with the rest of the day now. Keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck; I’m going to need it.