I recently spent the weekend exploring a 200-mile-long yard sale. The first stop had cars lined up for a mile on either side of the highway. It was our first time attending this event, and we overestimated how far we would be able to go—two days for 200 miles seems reasonable until you realize the vastness and how long it takes to walk through everything. We also visited a few antique stores along the way. I noticed that outside in the heat, yard sale prices—often for the same thing—were lower than air-conditioned antique store prices, lol. We saw the usual things you expect at a yard sale, and then the unusual—and, if I’m honest, a few things I wish I had never seen, lol.
A few take-home treasures were found, but more important, were the memories that surfaced along the way. Each small find seemed to carry its own story, and as the memories flowed, they led to a heart full of gratitude. I thought of all the wonderful people in my life—like a grandmother who somehow had the ability to make every person she loved—and there were many—feel as though they were her favorite. Her hugs were among the best experiences of my life; tears come to my eyes as I type this. She would embrace you to her bosom, firmly, and sometimes as a child you feared she might not turn you loose in time to breathe. There was something special about the feel of her soft cotton house dress against my cheeks. She’d hug, squeeze, and then pat your back a few times before releasing you. Oh, to be held in such a way that everything negative had to leave your body, and when you were able to inhale again, it was as if there was more room for all the good things.
I wondered what my grandmother and others of her generation would say about the prices people were paying for things to sit on a shelf—or just to collect—ordinary everyday things they used to get through their daily tasks. Time can certainly change the way and the reason things are valued. The beautiful glass pieces that were common back then—whether useful or decorative—I think were largely meant to stir happiness. The vibrant colors were a contrast to the harshness of daily life. Often now, they are collected for their beauty and the memories they carry. It’s interesting, my grandmother probably purchased them as bright spots on hard days. I purchase them also for their beauty, but oddly enough, they remind me of easier, more gentle days. My experience with them was seeing them in my grandmother’s house, where I always felt safe and loved, and as a child, oblivious to how hard life could be for the adults.
Things are, of course, just things. However, seeing the sun pass through the weekend treasure of a hand-blown glass bluebird in the window and resting in a memory is just what’s needed to spark a little happiness—a mini thought vacation between all of the to-dos.
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