Memories Don't Cost A Dime

Antique shopping has a way of knocking the wind out of me. Maybe I think too much. Maybe I over think everything. Whatever it may be, I am a thinker and all that thinking can bring me down, or at the very least, cause me to spend an entire afternoon thinking about life.

I cannot help myself.

I look at wedding gowns tossed casually over chairs and think about the girl who wore that gown at some point in time. The pride. The hope. The heartache? My own wedding gown is tucked away sealed inside a box at my mom's house. Will it one day take up space in some dusty back corner of a downtown shop with no one near to tell the story of the day that dress made a walk down the aisle? You see, I don't see so much the fabric left behind... I see the dream that it enveloped.

My dad and me.

I look at military uniforms and ribbons and medals... some preserved under a glass case and others collecting the silky trails of a rogue spider spinning its web. Their stories of courage and dedication lost to the ages. I long to hear the tales behind each worn name tag. These were sons, daughters, husbands, and wives. These were lives lived. How do such treasured items make their way into the hands of strangers? Is there no family left?

I look at paintings and see the soul sitting just behind the eyes. I browse through books and think about the people who turned the pages. I tinker with kitchen gadgets and relive memories of my grandma. I spend an hour and a half sifting through the memories of other people and walk out without buying a thing.

Taxing on the mind.
Easy on the wallet.

Happy Antiquing.