THEY WAITED FOR THE GARBAGE TRUCK EVERY MONDAY—AND THEN SOMETHING CHANGED
I stared at her, still trying to piece everything together. My mind was foggy from dehydration and whatever flu had knocked me out. But the moment she said, “your babies are safe,” something inside me loosened—like a knot that had been tied too tight finally let go.
Later, the doctor told me my blood pressure had crashed, likely from a mix of the virus and plain exhaustion. I’d been pushing myself to the limit, trying to be everything for everyone—and my body finally gave out.
But let me take you back to before that Monday, because what came before is what makes the rest of this story matter so deeply.
Jesse and Lila fell in love with the garbage truck when they were around two. Not with garbage, of course, but the truck itself—the roar of the engine, the flashing lights, the predictable Monday arrival. It became their weekly ritual: noses pressed to the window, squealing with joy until I finally gave in and let them run outside barefoot in their pajamas.
Theo was the first to notice them. A tall man with gentle eyes, he’d give a soft honk as a greeting. Rashad, the more outgoing one, waved like they were long-lost family.
And that’s all it took.
Every Monday, they became part of our lives. High-fives, silly jokes, the occasional sticker. One time, Rashad even brought little toy garbage trucks from the dollar store—Jesse carried his like it was treasure, and Lila tucked hers into a shoebox “bed.”
To my kids, they weren’t just sanitation workers—they were heroes. Steady, kind, and unfailingly present. I used to joke that they were the only grownups who never let us down.
So when everything fell apart that Monday, it didn’t really surprise me that they were the ones who stepped in.
After I got out of the hospital, I made sure I was up and dressed the next Monday morning, waiting out front with Jesse and Lila. My voice cracked when I thanked them. Rashad just hugged me and said, “We take care of our own.”
And from that moment, something shifted.
We started bringing out coffee and muffins on Mondays. The kids drew them pictures we stuck to the truck with magnets. Theo said he kept one in his locker at work. Rashad never showed up without stickers or a joke. Our strange little friendship became something unexpectedly beautiful.
Then, one day, Theo said, “Have you ever thought about telling the story?”
I laughed. “Who’d care about garbage collectors and two four-year-olds?”
