Flea Market Morning

It seems like a easy breezy way to earn a few extra dollars.  Sitting in the sunshine, people offering a handful of quarters...or just one. Some laughter, some challenges, some pseudo arguments as to  the price tag value of  50cents. The communication value of language barriers that are crossed with a show of fingers and a smile.  The feeling of accomplishment when  someone  pays for and walks away smiling  while holding Auntie Mabel's wedding gift of a chartreuse hand made ceramic lamp! Success!!! 
 The whole process can start several days or hours before the gate opens.  Assembling an assortment of shiny things, okay, dusty things that with a good cleaning will now be shiny things to add to the "Must Go" box.  Taking those now shiny things out of the Must Go box because they look pretty good. Arguing with yourself about getting new shiny things to replace them and finally  putting them back into the  box and closing the lid.  
 Trying to hold onto the philosophy of "Does it make you smile" to be able to part with long held treasures. Treasures held because you felt you had to hold onto them, yet realizing you no longer  need, want  and maybe never even liked ...and now you can let go.  You finally have that choice. You can load up your wagon and go!
 The morning starts so early.  Smacking the annoying buzz of the alarm does not change time to allow you "5 more minutes".  Stumbling about before the sun peeks from it's slumber you try to remember the last minute "stuff", kiss the dog, kiss the husband...and journey onward.
 The  back roads drive can be beautiful. A hint of brightness awakens the  birds and small animals to play their style of hopscotch across the path. A dew mist can linger over freshly mowed lawns, carefully tended designer gardens, and color "pops" in a field of wild flowers. Perhaps I should apologize to my alarm clock for that  "5 more minutes" smack!
 Arriving, waiting, sometimes heater running to ward off the chill, wishing for coffee, remembering not to panic when a flashlight beams into the back of your car for its only  a "dealer" trying to spot the good stuff.
 Gates open, cars parade in, find your preferred table and start the rush of unloading and set up before the swarm of "dealers" looking for that collectible valuable "buy it cheap' item.  Or not.  Sometimes I am granted an ease of set up. Carefully placing items that will catch the sparkles of sunlight, an eager eye of a child, a reminiscent grandmother, a laughter of silliness, a puzzle, a must pick up and shake, a box to dig through, a pretty container that must be opened, a gadget with a plug for the handyman to ponder, books for a potential scholar, if only for an escape to a garden.  
 My price tags are low. Too low I have been told.  But as items are wanted, I wrap and bag and add another quarter to my pocket I am satisfied.  
 A world of people pass my  table. The suave morning shopper, the giggling fashion queens, the "do you a favor and give you a quarter for it" buffoon.  Well dressed couples,  too long married couples, so young "how did we get here" couples.  Family mullet style country stars, young "wanna be's" in Classic Rock style tight hiphuggers and Beatle caps, gothics and harleys, polka dots and tattoos. Cigarette flickers and "Yo Dude" looking at chicks, snickers. Tattered old Marines proudly sporting their emblems, Elderly ladies you wish you had known, tall tale telling gentlemen, bargaining just to have the time.
 Familiar faces that now smile and share a word or two.  Updating life over a clothed table of wares. 
 Some totally annoying obnoxious out for a mean parade that remind you again of balance and patience.
 And the dear new friend, new trust,who will always stop and guard my table while I  dash, sometimes madly to the local porta potty.
 Most all stop and look, some pass on by. My pockets become heavy with change and dollars and words and connections and  smiles. I've held tightly to set values and eased to let some go. For some buyers they have smugly "won the battle". Others are truly grateful. They thank me for the "gift". And selfishly it makes me smile.  Somewhere along the way someone has done the same for me. I may not realize it until much later when I pull that item from the shelf, dust it off and remember the shine. 
The day ends when the flow slows down, boxes are once again packed and  "forget about it" items are tossed into the trash. Some days the boxes are still heavy. other times the load to carry home is light.  Yet I always have  extra change in my pocket, a feeling of accomplishment a smile in my day, and my shopping list dream of more cat food, more milkbones, something for supper,  something new for my garden and perhaps something shiny for my shelf.