You wouldn’t think seeing a kid take out the trash could warm your heart, but that is what happened to me recently.

I have my Peruvian in-laws in town: my wife’s brother and his family, his wife, and their two sons.

They’ve been staying with us for the last couple of months.

With my three sons and their two, we’ve got five boys in the house, ages 5, 7, 10, 13, and 15.

Things have been noisy and messy here in the Pearson residence, but all in all, it has been a very good time.

I am quite fond of my own three sons, and I love my nephews as if they were two additional sons, and I feel that my brother-in-law is something like a second father to my boys.

It was the fifteen-year-old who warmed my heart by taking out the trash.

They don’t do trash the way we do it in Peru.

There aren’t big trash bins hidden away somewhere on your property that you fill and wheel out onto the street once a week for pickup by huge garbage trucks.

They leave much smaller bags of trash directly on the curb several times per week.

Their pickup vehicles are much less powerful than ours.

I even saw a donkey pulling a cart doing the trash pickup one morning outside my father-in-law's house.

Peruvians generate much less garbage than Americans.

They don’t need monster trucks to transport it.

When our in-laws first arrived, my nephew told me he wanted to help out around the house.

I asked if he wouldn’t mind being in charge of taking out the trash for the entire house, kitchens, bathrooms, etc.

He said it would be his honor, and he has been faithful to his word, very consistent and without reminders.

A few days in, I noticed a glitch in his work.

With nine of us in the house instead of five, the outdoor trash is filling up much more quickly than normal.

I came home from work one day and saw that my nephew had been throwing bags directly on the ground because the can was full.

As soon as I walked into the house, I called his name, and he came to the entrance.

“Follow me,” I said.

I can’t help but talk to youngsters in a dad’s voice, which I believe makes me sound angry, even when I’m not.

“Did I do something wrong, Tio Adam?” he asked.

Tio means uncle in Spanish.

This boy is such a sensitive kid.

He always thinks people are mad at him, so when I want to correct him, I have to make sure he knows that I’m not angry.

“Nothing big is wrong. I just want to show you something. I’m not mad or anything like that,” I said.

When we got to the trash can, I showed him that he can push down the trash to compact it, which will give him more room.

“We don’t want to leave trash on the ground if we can avoid it. It looks awful, and animals will tear it apart, and we’ll have to clean it up. Understand?” I asked.

He said he did.

About a week after that, I was sitting in the living room, waiting to eat breakfast and then get on with my workday.

My nephew came down looking sleepy, said good morning, went to the bathroom, and then came to the kitchen to take out the trash.

As he stepped outside, with trash in tow, I looked down the driveway and saw that the garbage can lid was propped up with overflowing trash.

Just then, my brother and sister-in-law came into the living room.

“Come look through the window,” I said.

“Why?” they asked.

“Your boy is taking out the trash,” I said.

“Who cares? He takes it out every day,” said my brother-in-law.

“Yes, but the trash can is full. Let’s see if your boy leaves the trash on the ground or if he pushes down the trash as I showed him,” I said.

They gave me a confused look but played along.

We watched the boy walk down the gravel driveway.

When he made it to the trash can, he set down the bag he was carrying, rolled up his sleeves, and fought for several minutes, pushing down the trash to create space.

Then he flung the bag he’d brought into the can and came back up to the house.

He was oblivious that we had been following his every move.

“Your boy is a person of integrity. He tried his hardest even when he didn’t know we were watching,” I said, with a tear forming in my eye.

They still didn’t understand why I was making such a big deal out of it.

I tried to explain, but I don’t believe it ever hit them as hard as it hit me.

“Thank you. You are a good and honest young man,” I said to my nephew when he came back in.

“Thank you, Tio,” he said.

He didn’t quite understand why I was so happy either.

Perhaps I am getting quirkier as the years accumulate.

Or perhaps I am coming to understand one of the great joys of middle age.

It pleases me mightily to know really good youngsters.

And my nephew is certainly one.

I look forward to meeting many more.  

Adam

www.fortunatochocolate.com