Sometimes you know you should get rid of something. But you don't. You hem. You haw. You put off. Never mind that you don't seem to have a space for it. Or a need. Or even a good excuse. You know you ought to move it along and yet you just don't do it.
These are the times I remind myself of secondhand treasures I've found. They are things that are meaningful to me, things I love, but I have them only because someone else released them.
I found this table in an alley, brought it home, and have moved it from corner to corner in my basement...for several years now. I love its character but it just doesn't fit in my house, or my life.
Today I let it go.
I was almost certain no one would want it. It's too chippy, too beat up. But I couldn't bear it to go in a landfill, so I put it on Craigslist. I figured it was a very long shot, but with a low asking price, who knows?
It didn't even take five minutes before I heard from Kris. She (I figured it was a woman. Don't men usually spell that name with a C?) would swing by after work.
Turns out it was a Kris-Kristofferson-type Kris: longish hair, big laugh, even bigger parka. He had a cottage in Wisconsin to furnish.
Wow!
I took his five dollars and ran (ran!) upstairs to tell Jay. Talk about perfection! A cottage in Wisconsin!
I know it's just a table. But I found enough generosity in my heart to let go of something I didn't need and in return, it felt like the universe righted itself, just a little bit.
Or at least it brought its table home.
Wren
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