Heresy. A true story.

I like to think of myself as a man of science. I don't believe in any notion of any god, or any concept of fate for that matter. Once and a while I catch myself wondering about my overall purpose in life. What is my goal? Was I meant to do something more than have a job? Follow the American dream of getting married, having some kids, then having a messy divorce? I don't know the answer to that question yet. But something happened recently. Something that shook me to my core. In an instant, I had discovered a brief example of every horrible thing mankind is capable of made manifest, but alternatively, it was through my discovery that gave me a glimmer of hope that we can change. Fate? Or coincidence? Again, I don't know. All I can do is share my story.

It was a refreshingly sunny Saturday afternoon in March, in a sleepy corner of New England. Like many of my weekends, I was spending it with my father, moving furniture. This particular job was mutually beneficial: My mother's former boss, Paulette, has one less bedroom set to worry about moving while I gained said bedroom set. We pulled up to her house in North Providence, blissfully unaware of what I was about to encounter. We proceeded with the usual, making insignificant small talk with the owners while navigating their home. I was thankful that we had arrived so close to the date of the house closing, almost everything was already moved or thrown away. Very few things would be in our way, and with a U-Haul we'd be done in a hour with only one trip. Easy enough, or so I thought.

I took the initiative to bring the nightstand out myself. I walked it down the stairs, out to the road, and set it on the sidewalk. I arched my back and stretched, my only relief to scoliosis. Next to me was the large, plastic trashcan with the lid removed. As I walked past it, I took a glance inside, and that's when I saw it. I stopped dead in my tracks. It can't be. I wasn't exactly sure if what I was seeing was actually there, so I removed my sunglasses. Son of a bitch. Before I could finalize the image in my brain, my hands shot out and clutched the precious item. I stood there in complete disbelief. How? How, was the first question I asked. Several days later, I still can't even fathom an answer to that question. It was something that meant so much to so many people, almost lost to time. It was an heirloom, a gem, mass-produced yet completely personalized, on so many levels. Around this time Paulette's boyfriend had emerged from the house. "Do you know what this is?!" I almost frantically accused him. Of course he didn't know what it was! But ignorance is no excuse! It wasn't even his to throw away! The carelessness! I knew these were "privileged" people and the connotations it brought. They didn't value anything, everything has a price to them. But this, was their putrid idea made manifest in a way I couldn't understand. Without the basic courtesy of asking to keep such a gem, I rushed it back to my father's little red pickup truck for safe keeping.

On the way home, I kept looking back to make sure it was still there on the backseat. How? What if I hadn't arrived on this particular Saturday? What if I came after trash day? What if it wasn't on top of the trash can? What if the lid was still on? There are so many variables that could have completely changed the outcome of this story, and its these variables that still make me question if fate is in fact, real.

All I know is that what matters is that it found a new home that day. Most importantly, while never losing respect for it, it reminded me of what truly matters.

And here it is
http://i.imgur.com/8sdqTFc.jpg