Appropriately, the trucks are black; somber indications of what they have to do. They stop in front of each house, its debris pile so high we can't see the street anymore. And he does his job.
In this scoop are the chairs we sat upon to eat dinner each night The table that moved with us from Hammond 32 years ago. We bought it because the Hammond house was so small when you put a table in the "dining room" you couldn't open the back door. So the table we bought we could barely afford, but it had two sections that could be dropped to make the table narrow enough so the door would open.
Carrie and I refinished that table about 3 years ago. Right here in my carport. It was gorgeous.
now it is in the black truck.
Along with everything else. I saw the Spotbot get picked up by its cord. I would have yelled at Frank for doing that! I saw my grandfather's china cabinet join the Spotbot and the table.
And I cried again. This time for my material goods. The things I couldn't save. the things that couldn't swim.
I am sure I won't replace all the stuff that goes into that black truck. I no longer used some things. But it was still MY stuff.
I know material goods are not what we should strive for, material goods do not count the stars you earn in the heavens. But I don't think anyone on this earth could watch their material goods put into a black truck without a catch in their hearts.
I know I can't.