Flea market items reminded her of mom

Once again, I would rather be shopping for something that hasn’t been made in decades than contemplating putting flowers on my mother’s grave.

I have gotten used to the phone not ringing at precisely nine o’clock every Saturday. That’s one of the many things I’ve accepted as being in the past. Most days memories stay in the background of my life. But loss has a way of sneaking up on me.

Last week my brother, David, talked me into going to the tractor and engine show with him. Bless his heart, he didn’t ask me to check out the tractors or the engines on display. No, he was interested in the flea markets. Me, I was enjoying the rare occasion to have him all to myself.

As we walked through the various displays, I was struck by how many things reminded me of Mom. An assortment of hay hooks reminded me of all the bales of hay she moved while I was a child. Stacks of embroidered pillowcases, dresser scarves and such made me recall the many evenings she spent with needle and thread adorning similar items. A booth filled with plastic canvas ornaments and magnets had me reaching to buy some so she could use them as patterns.

And so it went. As David searched for cigarette lighters to add to his collection, I was stuck remembering how things used to be. Occasionally he pointed at something and remarked that it reminded him of Mom.

In between the memories we laughed and picked on one another like we always do. He called me cheap because I didn’t buy anything. I was amazed at how long he could inspect a defunct cigarette lighter since he doesn’t smoke and never has.

I tried to keep up with him but after a few hours I found a handy chair and plunked down. He had stopped at the other end of a row of vendors and was engaged in ernest conversation with the seller. When he finally caught up with me he told me about this fake watch he found. I asked if he had bought it and he said he wanted his wife to look at it first.

We finally made it back to his car. He dropped off his purchases and we headed for the nearest fast food place. Cold pop never tasted so good.

We called our brother, Michael, to see if he and his wife wanted to join us. They did, but they had to endure our teasing about them driving over instead of walking like we had.

The others compared treasures they had found. We traded stories and talked about Mom’s upcoming birthday. We finally parted ways and David dropped me off at home. He returned with his wife the next day and all three of us went back to the fairgrounds to see the watch he wanted.

On the way back to the car I actually bought something. It was a plant, although not the one I wanted. They were selling pitcher plants, oddities that I don't have a prayer of keeping alive. I settled for a succulent with speckled leaves.

After they dropped me off, I called my daughter in Texas to see if she was safe. She said the worst of the hurricane had passed her by. It was raining sideways but not hard. A tornado had passed within five miles of the hospital where she is a nurse and had skipped her entirely. She was prepared to stay at work as long as necessary. I’m not sure she could get home if she tried.

Spending time with my brothers and learning that the family in Texas is safe is far better than shopping for a present for Mom. But I miss it anyway.