No sense paying good money to
haul it to the recycling place! Saving my money to build a better world for
you.
I sit on my favorite rock by,
what used to be the edge of my grandfather’s property, wiping tears from my
cheek with the back of my hand. I have happy memories of this farm – yet so
much of what happened here was ugly under the surface, like submerged, leaching
tires. Even murky water sparkles under the sun.
The smell of the house that I
once thought was love, is mould from neglect and years of living by the water. The
money Gumpy saved by refusing to maintain the house or recycle, is buried
somewhere behind the barn in old coffee cans. Buried, like my memories of what
I’d seen him do to Gumma. She told me her crooked arm was made that way to hug
me tighter.
It wasn’t just old tires that
got dumped in the lake.
When my mother complained
about pollution or climate change, Gumpy would declare her warnings "malarkey"
. He
used pesticides on his felids and rowed out into the water late at night to get
rid of old oil and paint cans. I watch the result now, in the sludgy muck that
stretches for yards where water once lapped.
Is it a coincidence that I
married a man who is as transparent as glass and ardent about honesty? If he senses
something is not what it seems, my husband will dig and ask and pester until the
truth is exposed, no matter how ugly. He is behind the barn now, with a metal
detector. Our daughter shares his curiosity and wonder. What are we doing to
build a better world for her? Should I tell her the truth about Gumpy?
She steps to my side, pointing
at the gooey sludge rimming the polluted water.
“Look Mommy! Chocolate pudding
and a field of diamonds!”
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