I take morning walks a couple days a week up to Kite Hill. My heart doctor recommends it, since the election. The past couple months, I’ve been coming across garbage at the end of the road past my dead end street. From overenthusiastic garbage trucks, recklessly heaving their bins.
There’s a maxipad in particular that catches my eye. Soiled. Hospital-sized. Thanks a lot. I step around it and continue my walk to the top of the hill, where I watch for hawks surfing on thermals and ladybugs clinging to tumbleweeds and clouds doing what they do. My walk rarely disappoints.
I don’t think about the maxipad again until my next walk, when I walk up the trail again and the maxipad is still there. Extra-long. Glaring. Dammit! It’s not my maxipad. I didn’t put it there.
Until I realized: that maxipad isn’t bothering anyone but me. And I’m waiting for someone to take it away. I haven’t picked it up yet, but I’m thinking about it.
In the meantime, there’s another important walk I have to do.
Hope to see you there.