Trashed Again

O.K. What's the deal here? Why, I ask? I find my yard has been on the receiving end of someone's lack of environmental consciousness. I've been hit in another trash drive-by occurence. Gross, the thought of picking it up again displeases me. I can't stand to see it just laying there. I'm at war within myself. I should pick it up. Ah, but I don't want to touch it. I think, I will get it next time I walk by. What kind of person would continue to throw their trash out each time they drive through here? The evidence leads me to believe it's a repeat offender. It is often the same thing. Who is this person? What goes on in their head as they commit such acts? Do I know them? I dislike the detraction from natural beauty that littering brings. What if I covertly hide in the bushes, waiting for the right moment to throw the dirty, spit bottle back at the culprit, in hopes it would hit them in the head knocking some sense into them. What a crazy thought! I don't know who it is. And, I'm not willing to invest the time to find out. Who doesn't want to contribute to keeping this place beautiful. They mustn't care. Because if they did, they would never throw their trash out so carelessly, so thoughtlessly, in the first place. I wonder, what type of up-bringing would lead to such behavior? Isn't everyone told not to litter? Where's the blip in their socializing? For now, I let it lay. But as I do, day by day, its presence bothers me. I finally found solace in the snow as it gently covered the litter site; only to be reminded of it once again as the sun melted away its veil. It seems, as I leave it lay, no more trash is thrown. This has been going on for years. The past says, once I pick it up another piece will appear. Is this coincidence, some sort of test?

Lost and Found: Shoe

What's going on with the lone shoe by the roadside. Does some person finally say to themselves, "these shoes suck but, I'm only gonna throw out one though." Is this act symbolic of how people hold onto bad relationships? Or, does it equate to how we have such troubles in letting go of the past? I've always wondered about the case of the missing shoe. Let's call it--the other one. Where is it? Is it further up the road? Or, has it been left behind somewhere? Will these two shoes ever meet up again? And if so, would it ever be the same? Will its memory ever cross the mind of the person who once possessed it ever again? What was going on that fateful day, when the owner of these shoes had had enough to the point of tossing one aside in such a manner. And, why did they choose this spot to do so? Why does it seem to always be on one of life's main roads that this event happens? What were the circumstances amid such tragedy. Was it an amicable split or was it a terrible, brutal scene? The ugly truth of it remains that for the moment the chances of a new life have been cut dramatically. Confidence has been lost. Maybe, even trust has fallen by the wayside. Wholeness may never be felt again now that the relationship has been severed. Maybe, this is often why the lone shoe looks so helpless, tired, even worn out. You hardly ever see a stiletto or even a dress shoe. It seems to more often be a loafer or a sneaker. Rarely, do we ever see a glimpse of any expensive designer labels like Jimmy Choo stranded in such a way. Do these factors have anything to do with the lone shoe's demise? Maybe. I must be the only one on earth who has considered such a plight. Ah, I think not. There must be others I tell myself. Certainly, I'm not alone in the world in my pondering. And, maybe I'm even a part of a collective consciousness hoping to pick up that fallen lone shoe and help it to find some new purpose, new perspective, a renewed attitude or, even, a better place to spend the remainder of its days. All is not lost, only part.