“People don’t fake being depressed. They fake being okay. Remember that. Be kind.” ~ Unknown
hometown
Day one of the grand yard sale is in the books. We had people buying before everything was even out in yard, and that kept up for over three hours. Everybody was really nice, though, and they almost seemed impressed that I kept bringing stuff out, like I was some kind of dealer. Listen, I ain’t no dealer. I’ve just been sitting on a lot of stuff for too long. Anyway, we were still in the crisp of the morning when Shero said, “Do you know who this is?” I’d passed the woman earlier on my way to help a man look at my old lawnmower, and she’d seemed familiar to me, but I had to confess now that I did not recognize her. When she said, “I’m Myra,” Instantly, I hugged her as hard as I could. It had been close to fifty years since Myra Perkins Linkous and I had seen each other. Shero and Myra’s dad, one of the kindest men you’d ever meet, used to work together, and they lived at Malone, not far from us. In fact, Myra continued to live in that house until a few years ago when they decided to relocate to Lexington. The youngest of three daughters, Myra was several years older than I, but she would come see Patty and Beverly Vance, my next-door neighbors, so I got to know her better that way. I was, after all, the little sister they couldn’t get rid of. Today, I had the opportunity to meet Myra’s husband, Keith, and he was a breath of fresh air, telling jokes only mountain people tell. I had the best time talking with them both. You just never know when a blessing from the past is going to walk up and buy something from your yard sale.
old friend
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