I feel sick just looking outside my window at the busy crowd bustling on the freshly mowed front yard of my house.
I hate garage sales. Why do we have to do them again? Oh yes, to get rid of unnecessary garbage that clutters the house. Well, I find all my belongings important and not at all untidy, thank you very much.
Look at her, that plump woman in a hideous violet overcoat. When you are the size of a little baby whale you should avoid such eye catching colors, mind you. The big plum is pawing my delicate Chinese tea set. How in seven hells did he get thrown into this mess of a garage sale?
Ah, they must have taken me by surprise, you see I’m not as nimble as I used to be. Old age and all that. They told me that there was too much stuff in my room. Taking the precious air out, keeping me from breathing fresh air. As if. Those are my memories you are eagerly offering away.
Look at this “unnecessary stuff” with me will you? Look at my Indian boxes with intricate carvings and oriental scents. Look at the handmade hats that once made me the best dressed gal on this side of the river. Did they also take my Venetian mirror in silver frame? Ah, I see it is packed away by a dashing gentleman. A present for his wife no doubt.
Oh, look there goes my favorite reading lamp. A Tiffany, you can see the distinctive lampshade from here, can’t you? Yes, it was a fine specimen, one of the first. It was given to me by someone precious… So many memories… So many shadows of my past…all leaving one by one in a grand garage sale.
Yes, I definitely hate garage sales.
Daily prompt from: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=653314344695890&set=a.599260846767907.1073741825.175634409130555&type=1&relevant_count=1.
On a weekend road trip, far away from home, you stumble upon a garage sale in a neighborhood you’re passing through. Astonished, you find an object among the belongings for sale that you recognize. Tell us about it.
The dress was the color of a deep blue sea. It was a very simple dress, rather not in sync with the latest fashion but still eye catching. It had a small hole where the seam let go. At the bottom of the dress there was a light “V” line, a place where the iron lingered a tad bit too long. It was hanging over a rocky, once white chair. The chair stood a little bit on the side of the big garage sale, which happened in this neighborhood at least four times a year. I usually just glance quickly at the garbage of life that people try to get rid of and go on minding my own business. But today was different. Today I saw the sea blue dress. The dress that had exactly the same marks as my old, worn out garment that I haven’t seen in ages.
My blue dress was a gift, what else. It was a gift from my aunt. She found the dress in her own closet when tiding up. She gave it to me, with the words “I danced till dawn in this dress and made the best memories wearing it. Now it’s your turn”. I remember it so vividly because the moments I spent wearing the sea blue dress were, in fact most unforgettable and priceless.
In the sea blue dress I first got drunk so much, that I passed out on my friends couch. In the sea blue dress I had my first picnic under the stars. In the sea blue dress I finally passed my driver’s license, after four tries. In the sea blue dress I passed my most important exam for university application. In the sea blue dress I went for the first time to a summer festival and met my first love. In the sea blue dress I tried sushi for the first time. In the sea blue dress I took a ferry from the coast to an island. In the sea blue dress I first flew in a plane. In the sea blue dress I first cried over a broken heart and broken dreams. In the sea blue dress I bought my first pair of favourite pearl earrings. In the sea blue dress I spent the happiest time of my life – my early twenties.
I lost track of the sea blue dress when I finished studying and went to work in a big corporation office. I started confining myself to strict dress code of prim white shirts and modest pencil skirts. I forgot about my delicate, blue dress. I forgot about everything that it represented: the joy, youth and freedom.
I took the cloth from the chair and confidently strode towards the saleswoman. Today I bought something more than a piece of fabric. Today I brought back my memories. And those are worth more than anyone can pay. Memories are priceless. Memories are forever.