Trash vs Treasure

“One person’s trash is another person’s treasure—no offense,” K said to me in a way that was full of strength, empathy, with the hint of an under breath giggle. I was standing in downtown Denver in late July, 2023. I was still stewing over a dramatic breakup, three months in my rear view mirror. I’d taken a step away from my two-day visit to meet people who worked at one of the agencies in my company’s holding company. Under the blazing sun, I’d walked three blocks from my office to puff on a cigarette, conscious that no one else around seemed to be hooked on the same nicotine addiction. 

Her statement was like striking a match in my head. “Yes, exactly,” I responded. “And no offense taken. That’s such a great way to describe it.”

Yes, I was disposed of, and yes, I knew I’m a valuable human being. But there I am, still licking my wounds from being dumped in a third world country with a broken toe and a heart condition, left to drag my suitcase down a gravel mountain in the dark wearing flip-flops after the person who was supposed to me “my ever after” after screamed at me “I don’t want you!” With clenched fists, blackened eyes, and a pitch that echoed over the mountain range, meeting the sound of the waves crashing into the beach below us. That was my favorite beach in the world, in my favorite town in the world, and the place where I was disposed of in a fairly dramatic way.

During that conversation with Kim in Denver as I was puffing on my cig, her word’s were like an ignition switch in my head, providing me with a clarifying framework for telling stories. I’d finished a 100,000 word manuscript full of stories about people I’d met over the past three years during my remove COVID travel life, traveling across 14 countries where I’d met amazing people, nursed heartbreaks, gained knowledge, and done some other shit. The biggest takeaway from it all was the singular idea of the extraordinary “thing” I’d been given by being able to peek into people’s lives, for them to be vulnerable with me. Often, those people struggled with their own value or how they were perceived by society. Always, they impressed upon me lessons and and understanding of their incredible value. 

Some of these stories are written in the first person, others in third person depending on circumstance. Some are happy. Some are angry. All of them are intended to be human. And intended to emphasize my core belief that each one of us is precious. It only takes humanity and the ability to pay attention, to have the capacity to see.