Twice a year, in October and April, I go to a consignment sale.
I have been going to this sale for about thirty years.
I have only missed once.
I look forward to it with great anticipation.

The sale supports a local playschool.
The playschool is a non-profit, parent-cooperative preschool.
It emphasizes learning through child-centered play and the beauty and value of nature.
Though I go to the sale, I do not personally know any families who attend there.

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There’s nothing special about the table.
We’ve had it for quite a while.
Some of my own children used it.
It was the perfect size for little hands and feet.

The table is blue on the outside edges.
It is faux wood across the top, which makes it easy to wipe clean.
There are two chairs that came with the table.
There is a small pocket on each end of the table to hold pencils, crayons, or treasures.

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What a day it was when I walked into the library in my hometown and got my library card.
Signing the card, in the presence of the librarian, made me feel so grown up and so proud.
I carried that card in my little girl wallet as if I was carrying valuable treasure.
Words my mother had said  so often rang in my ears.

You are never without a friend when you have a book to read.
Those words came to mind only last week, when I said them to my oldest granddaughter.
What does that mean, Grandma?
It means you’re never lonely, and the characters in the books become your friends.

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I went to a tea party this past weekend.
It was a very special tea party.
It was a tea party for my oldest granddaughter’s fourth birthday.
Her sister and cousin were there along with three little friends.

It’s funny how one little tea party could bring back so many memories.
Memories of my youngest daughter who had a tea party when she was four years old.
Memories of that same daughter playing with little fragile tea cups bought at the dollar store.
We still have that tea set that was so well loved and so well used.

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I have not been doing too well these past few days.
I woke up with a sense of sadness.
I could only explain it as a broken heart.
I live in the same house, on the same street, and in the same town.

However, I do not live in the same country.
I do not live in the country that I lived in a few days ago.
I do not live in a country I recognize.
I do not live in a country that resembles any of the things I hold dear.

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We have lived in our house for twenty-four years.
We built the house we lived in before this one.
We had lived in the previous house for ten years.
There was another house and an apartment before that.

I was thinking of the house we built the other day.
I was thinking about the woods that surrounded it.
The builder cleared just enough trees to build our home.
I absolutely loved the shade of the woods and the lush green that surrounded me.

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Thursday is my food shopping day.
It has been that way throughout my married life.
I took all five children to the grocery store when they were young.
They loved getting the things I needed from the shelves and placing them in the cart.

Now, I shop at two different grocery stores.
One is my regular grocery store and the other is an organic, whole foods market.
I go to the regular grocery store first, simply because it has my bank’s ATM.
Yes, I still pay for my groceries with cash.

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I enjoy serving the women who come to Bible study in my home.
I love to bake, so it is always fun to make something new for them to try.
You are my guinea pigs, I have said on occasion.
Since I do not have a sweet tooth, I mean that sincerely.

Coffee is brewing in an old fashioned percolator.
Hot water is ready for tea.
Canisters of various tea are in a basket on the counter.
Cups, plates, forks, and napkins are nearby.

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I remember when we looked at the house that we now call home.
We had five children and knew we needed to move into something a bit larger.
I knew the day I changed the sheets on the boys’ bunk beds.
I leaned down to put the fitted sheet on the bottom bed and knocked books off the bookshelf.

It was time.
It was hard to leave the house we had built.
It was hard to leave the front porch that we added years later.
It was a little easier knowing we would still be in the same town, only miles away.

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Long before car seats or even seat belts, there was the flat bench seat in a car.
I remember, as a little girl, sitting in the flat bench seat between my parents.
I remember laying in the back seat and falling asleep on long car rides.
I remember my mother singing.

She would pass the time singing song after song.
I would fall asleep to the sound of her voice.
I remember one song in particular that she would always sing at Christmas time.
The song was, Toyland.

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