Recycling Bins

Years ago, when we were in our early 20's, my sister and I were

running in the early morning hours (okay, maybe not "early" but early for women in their early 20's).  As we passed recycling bin after recycling bin quite a few filled with liquor bottles, wine bottles and beer cans, one of us remarked, "You can tell where the fun people live by what's in their recycling bins."  We both laughed.

Today when I pass recycling bins I still wonder about the people who live in the homes, and I wonder about the stories behind those bottles and cans.

I wonder if those are bottles an cans drunk by a group of friends sharing their lives or if those are bottles and cans drunk by one lonely person just trying to get through life.

I wonder if those are bottles and cans occasionally drunk by the people in the house or if those are bottles and cans drunk night after night despite promises to cut back or stop.

I wonder if those are bottles and cans responsibly drunk by legal aged adults or if those are bottles and cans a mother found stashed in her children's rooms and she now lies in bed night after sleepless night worrying one is or will become an addict.

I wonder if those are bottles and cans drunk by parents after they've lovingly put their children to bed following bath, books, and prayers or if those are bottles and cans children pick up from around their home as their parents sleep off another "binger."

I wonder if those are bottles and cans drunk at a family dinner where there is much laughter and love or if those are bottles and cans drunk at a family dinner where there is sarcasm, criticism and strife.

All these years later, when I run past recycling bins, I still wonder about those bottles and cans, but I no longer assume I know the story, and I no longer laugh.