Garage Sale
Went to a garage sale yesterday. My daughter came home from work with the kids and off we went. It was just a short walk down the street. I’d been eyeing that sale since I drove in, and I was happy we were going. My daughter bought a chest of drawers and a vanity for her daughter. I bought a box of old classical records, the grandson got a cache of nerf guns, while the granddaughter scored some jewelry.
The goods were on sale because the owners were moving to Oregon but most of the goods were leftover items from deceased parents and grandparents. Books, pictures, odds and ends. Things that meant something to someone at some point but now meant nothing to anyone at this point. Consider the charm bracelet my granddaughter bought. The charms were all awards from Rubbermaid. From the days when Rubbermaid had house parties. She was good and she got charms. Lots of them.
I think perhaps I’ll take my granddaughter back down to the house this afternoon and see if we can’t learn a little bit more about the owner of the bracelet. Who was she? Where did she live? What’s her story? Because now she’s part of the story. And maybe keeping one or two of those charms would be a good thing. We can talk about the trenches and how people toil in them and get awards. And live good lives and need to be remembered even if the one doing the remembering is a stranger who bought a bracelet at a garage sale.