Casey Gilfillan

Like the animals that scamper about the dumpster in the morning, early before the bustling flow of traffic. When there are only about 10 cars, scattered sporadically in proximity to corresponding residences, that have been resting undisturbed since arrival the previous night. The squirrels, birds, raccoons, chipmunks; they run and hop and play and scavenge amongst the garbage bags and bins. I remember one morning I had taken the trash out before 7am in my slippers and pajama shorts, trying to get it done before the congregation of coffee shop clientele. I walked over to the dumpster and the squirrel that had been clawing at the lid abandoned his post at my approach, but did not evacuate the area. Typically, they would run back up into the trees or across the lot to the other set of garbage cans. No, instead he quickly darted off and then appeared on the fence a few feet back, both of us still comfortably in each other’s view. I thought it odd, but didn’t skip a beat as I swung the trash bag through the air to the top of the container. My opening of the dumpster’s lid prompted the squirrel that was inside of it to leap out directly at me. Somewhere between the squirrel’s aim and my reflexes, we miraculously dodged each other. They were reunited. I was pleased to have released him. I could feel my heart beat thumping in my throat.