no.14 - the Litterbug of Fayette

Yesterday I had a small, perfect moment.

It was trash day in my neighborhood. As I walked with my daughter down Fayette street, a wide orange trash truck came trundling along in the opposite direction.

Fayette is long and narrow and it only goes one way. As a result, a small traffic jam of cars was accumulating behind the truck as it stopped at each home. I've been stuck behind these trucks myself and I know it isn't fun. But there is nothing to be done. Only a complete idiot would honk.

And just one moment later, such an idiot arrived.

A woman, smoking menthols, and wolfing down a Peppermint Patty, stopped short at the end of the line and began laying on the horn.

As I turned at the sound, a silvery wrapper came fluttering out her window. I stared and waited.

Littering makes me so furious that I want to make sure I am seeing an actual littering event before I step in and get all ragey. The woman with a love for all things minty obliged my need for proof by flicking the last, sticky bits of trash from her fingers and out into the street.

I scooped up my three-year old daughter and stormed towards the car, considering how to proceed without swearing, yelling or hitting.

Then, I did the perfect thing:

I bent down and picked up her trash without a word.

She looked at me dumbfounded. Her mouth hung open a little, (but not enough to let the cigarette fall) and she said "I'm sorry."