Country Living

I think it's safe to assume he thought there would be a man hopping out of the truck in front of him.  The dump, after all, isn't really a girly place.  We waited for the truck in front of us to pull out, then we pulled in to the next 2 spots, ready to empty our trucks of our trash.  You see, when you live in the country, you take your trash to the dump.  No more trash pick up, remembering to push the canister to the curb.  You load it up and take it yourself.  Its glamorous.  I know. 

Instead of a man getting out of the truck, he saw me.  Me, in a long Target maxi skirt with a vintage t and flip flops. I hopped up on the tailgate, hoisted over and grabbed our trash.  My first toss into the garbage container was our bag of Chick Fil A from Friday night.  I tossed it up and over and a gust of wind grabbed the bag and waffle fries came raining down on me. 

I guess it was at that point he decided I might need a little help.  Seeing as the top of the dumpster was a good 12 inches above my head, some assistance might be needed. 

He reminded me of my grandfather.  A good-ole-boy in his workin' clothes and pick up truck.  He helped me like it was his job.  I told him we were new to the area and this was my first time as a 'grown up' to take my own trash to the dump.  I told him I grew up here, but we lived in the city for a while, but just finished our new house here. 

We got all the trash out and I thanked him.  As we got in our vehicles, I thanked him again.  He tured towards me with the kindest grin and said 'welcome home'. 

I tell you what, this living in the country is turning out just fine.