It was twenty hours ago today.
My mother and I had two choices of where to begin our yard sale day: the far end of town for a sole sale? or the big city with multiple prospects?
I suggested the later and said we could go across town at the end of the morning, if we still had the desire.
It was a bad decision.
Don’t get me wrong. We had a great time and accumulated our deals all morning long. We even agreed to go to the last individual location.
It was wonderful to be there. It was a thrill to see all the albums. I wanted to take some home.
When I asked how much, the owner stated very matter-of-factly, “Two for a dollar.”
“Super! Did you sell many today?”
“Just a few to the first gentleman that asked if I had any vinyl.”
“Really? Which ones did he buy?”
Again, she was very matter-of-fact. “I think one was Sargent Pepper. He bought the few Beatles albums I had.”
My heart was lonely. I didn’t have a vinyl that was guaranteed to leave a smile.
The first dealer may have been smiling but I wasn’t. I had to accept it. I had to sit back and watch the evening go…