In flea ‘marketeering’ as I like to call it,
there is always a story.
I met this painting, propped on the ground, leaning up against an 18 wheeler
at the flea market.
The seller was sitting on the tailgate of her truck,
swinging her legs,
laughing with her friends.
It was a beautiful Saturday morning.
She smiled and asked me why I wasn’t there the previous Saturday.
I explained about a visit to see my grandsons.
”Ah….yes..”, she said.
We had a moment of mutual understanding about the need to see our grandchildren.
And then it was time for business.
After a moment or two of silence, as I pondered the price,
I paid her full price.
Because the painting is lovely- especially above my cream colored couch and its olive green velvet pillows.
Because she found it and hauled it from Tulsa to the end of Texas.
Because thrifting , like everything else in life is about mutual respect.