On Taking Out The Trash

You see this picture, here?
It looks like a trash can, right?

Well, it's not just that.
It's so much more.

Because my husband put it there.
My husband, who is paralyzed from the chest down, thank you very much.

This is how this went down.

I got a text message with the above picture and the caption, "Your hubby took out the trash."
To which, I replied, of course, "Whoa. How did u do that?"
Michael's answer: "Awesomeness."

I LOVE HIM!

I immediately started imagining how in the world he did this, without landing on the ground, covered in trash, Brokaw rolling around in it and eating coffee grounds.

Then, I stopped myself.
And I just enjoyed the simple beauty that is the fact that my husband took the trash can to the curb.

This is one of those little things that I don't think about a lot, but I just do over and over, and I assumed I would do it over and over for years and years until we had a kid, and that kid was old enough/strong enough/probably paid in some way to take the trash out to the curb.

But just like this, on a random Thursday morning, my world changed.

I'm not saying he will always take the trash out, or that I expect him to. That's totally not the point.

The point is that I am so blessed to be married to a guy who never gives up, never stops getting better, getting stronger, and finding ways to take care of me.

I love the trash guy.

And for the record, I still can't figure out how he did it.