Friday Morning Pickup

By Anna DeVizia

As I’m leaving in the morning, I notice that my neighbor 
has haphazardly placed an old television on their curb, 
the kind that resembles a big shoebox, 
weathered gray plastic encasing a dull glass mirror 
that likely once reflected the smiling, pink faces 
of children on a chilly Christmas morning.
I think of those children—I was like them once. 

Nostalgia surfaces–memories unlocked
by my neighbor’s curbside trash.
I remember when my father surprised us with a new TV 
eerily similar to the one now awaiting its end
in the yard next to mine. I remember coming home 
from school, 8 years old, to see it sitting proudly 
in our living room playing 
an episode of SpongeBob SquarePants.
I sat in front of it for hours that day. 
I could do things like that then—waste hours aimlessly. 

I shake my head, dismissing 
the picture in my mind, 
pausing it mid-scene
with a click of my remote. 

As I turn my car key in its ignition,
the garbage men arrive–
their orange monster groaning
in anticipation, ready to swallow 
those memories for good. 

Anna DeVizia is a soon-to-be college graduate and writer from New Jersey. When she’s not
writing, she enjoys baking, reading, crocheting, collecting old video games, and petting her cat.