The post has nothing to do with the photos.

There is something just so sad about abandoned children's items. You've likely seen them: well-used car seats out on the curb, torn umbrella strollers languishing in alleyways, bent playpens peeking out of dumpsters. It's also sad to see discarded and forgotten toys, but we use things like car seats, strollers, and playpens to keep our babes safe and comfortable and every time I see them in the trash, I wonder about their story. 


I've always felt this way, even before I had kids. When I was in my early twenties, I was walking on a sidewalk and came upon a car seat sitting out in the rain. I immediately wondered and hoped that the child who used to ride in it was safe. I actually stopped walking to stand and look at the sad, wet seat, its sopping fabric dripping onto the cement. It was just sad.


I'm not sure why I find these things so disconcerting. Perhaps it's seeing the faded imprint of a child's small body in the cloth of a seat or stroller, or the worn spot where a little one used to chew on a playpen's railing. For a child, these were trusted, loved items and now they are garbage. The stillness, the silence, the abrupt ending. 


I do know that I've always had a compassion for inanimate objects. As a small child I would feel sorry for a broken chair and I'd hang on to scraps of paper and stickers that had lost their stick. I didn't think they deserved to be thrown away just because they were useless. If I thought too much about it, these things would make me cry. I was and am a marshmallow. 


But really I'm lucky I didn't become a hoarder.