They called out a special truck, clearly; I’ve never seen that one here before. It was the length of a semi with a flat bed with planks along the sides like an old gardener’s truck, painted in the cheerful white and green of the city’s recycling contractor.

The toddler next door would have loved this: the guy wheeled the treadmill over to the back of it, where a lift brought it up to the height of that bed. Then he wheeled it further down towards the front–and as far as I could tell my treadmill was the only thing on there.

I took a picture and waved hello in thanks. The guy waved back.

Later when I went to bring the bins in, I found it: Ruth had made the key to turn on the treadmill easy to find and hard to lose by beading a bright piece to attach to it. And then a second section that clipped onto that, just to really be sure. Primary color beads, then the pink and turquoise plaited plastic.

That second part was easy to get off if you wanted to (while keeping the key, just in case.)

And there it was, lying in front of the empty recycling bin, waiting where he knew I would find it. Kind of like half a friendship bracelet. I’m sure he assumed I had put a fair bit of time into making it.

It completely made my day. Such a small thing, but a thoughtful thing, and that’s everything. Hey, RUTH! (Since she’s the one who did make it.)

That truck left just barely in time for the neighbor’s contractor to pull in. More potential two-year-old-boy thrills: it was a cement truck, twirlywhirly in back and all, ready to pour the not-new neighbors’ new walkway. Last week’s weather was too rainy for it but the forecast said we had ten dry days ahead.

Two hours after they arrived, it rained for half an hour.

I don’t know when the actual pouring happened, but two hours after the skies cleared, I left for an errand. Passing that house, with echoes of the returned chaining hovering in my thoughts, I stopped, rolled down the car window, and said to the tired guy closest by, “It looks great!”

His face lit up. He thanked me. He looked at it: it did, didn’t it. He turned to go tell his buddies and I headed out and on my way, suddenly hoping those four men and their families would have a brighter day all from the actions of that recycling employee, too.