literature

The Rusty Bucket

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I was on my way to water the flowers when I noticed a rusty bucket sitting right next to the watering can. It was old, obviously, with a bunch of holes in the bottom and all over the sides. The bucket itself was about the size of a 5-gallon paint pail. I picked it up and tossed it the trash, knowing it was of no use because of the holes. After watering the flowers, I went to put the watering can back when I noticed that same rusty bucket sitting in the same spot as before. Didn't I throw it away? I tossed it again before going inside. 

The next day, I was getting ready for work when I spotted the rusty bucket sitting outside my window. It was even more rusty than it was yesterday. I once again threw it in the trash before leaving, thankful it was garbage day. No more rusty bucket, I thought.

After work, I saw the empty trash bins at the curb, along with that same rusty bucket. The trash people must've taken it out, I thought. It was upside down and covered with more rust. Before going inside, I took the trash bins and put them back in their usual spots before tossing the bucket in. This was getting annoying.

I went inside to prepare dinner and was startled by a surprising sight. A boy, no older than ten years old, was sitting on my couch, holding that same rusty bucket. His brown hair was cut short, almost a buzz-cut. He wore a red, short-sleeved T-shirt, blue denim jeans, and black sneakers with white socks. His suntanned face was dotted with freckles across the bridge of his nose. He looked at me apologetically as I went to stand in front of him.

"Why are you in my house?" I asked.

"Sorry, Mrs. Saunders," he said. "I was hoping your husband would fix my bucket. It's been in my family for almost twenty-five years, but now my mom wants to get rid of it."

"I can see why," I said. "How is anyone supposed to use it? It's covered in holes. And besides, my husband is away on a business trip. He won't be back until next week."

The boy looked sad. "If I go home with it, my mom will make me throw it away," he said.

"Is that why you kept putting it near my house?"

"Yes."

"I'll tell you what," I said. "I'll hold on to it until Robby gets home. That okay with you?"

The boy's face lit up. "Thanks Mrs. Saunders!" he said. He placed the bucket on the fireplace and went home. It seems that rusty bucket was too important to throw away.
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