This weekend I opened my yard to the masses, inviting one and all to tip toe through my past to find a little something to take away. The garage sale is a long time coming. In fact, it's been planned since long before the separation. We (and especially my soon-to-be ex husband) are amassers of stuff. Especially old stuff we plan on fixing and magnifi-fying. Except the fixing and beautifying always seemed to be saved for some unnamed weekend. When we have time. That never seems to come. Not to mention the toys. And the toys. And lord help us, the clothes. Bins and bins of clothes saved for the future child we'll now never have. No need to keep it, right? It's time to start clearing out.
And so, one by one, I set up all the different things that added up to our life together in certain parts of the yard: the super cool vintage bike my STBX found for me years ago, a sweet nod to my obsession with the Pee Wee Herman bike and all things 50s (sold and on hold); the banged up pub mirror that hung in our first apartment and our first home; the ice cream maker that I HAD to register for but used only twice; the baby swing we couldn't believe we lived without for two whole weeks; the beautiful hand-painted tea cart he gave me for my birthday. A couple who own an antique shop bought that today. They just run the store on the weekends for now, but hope they'll be able to go full-time soon. When those words registered in my brain I had to turn around and pretend to fiddle with my wallet. That's something we always talked about doing someday. This, what you're doing right now—peeking through people's yards and bins and tables for treasures—is what we did. I almost told them, "Sorry, I changed my mind. The cart's not for sale, after all." But I mustered up a smile and said I'd come visit the shop someday, and I thanked them for stopping by. Then I closed the garage door for a few minutes and had myself a cry. There have been lots of them this weekend, here and there, as I pulled out an impossibly small shirt or set out some dishes that we registered for. They're all just little, little things. But they were ours. I'm still working on creating and finding and making what's mine. xo, Evie