My neighbor offered it while cleaning out her garage when she moved. There must have been stars my eyes when she asked if I wanted it, free. It was an antique French Provincial dining table with two legs with brass caps. It wasn’t in mint condition but it was decent and could easily be refinished to near perfection. An elderly French woman had given it to my neighbor years before.
The table went into from her alley garage to ours. I needed to think about where to put it. It was soon apparent that there was no room for it in our modest 100 year-old home. But it was beautiful and I didn’t want to let it go. I thought I’d keep it for my daughter’s when they grow up.
As I have written many times, this recession has landed on my family like Dorothy’s house landed on the Wicked Witch of the East in Oz. Despite the fact that we’ve lived within our means during our 14-year marriage, Mr. Golightly and I have had to tighten an already tight belt and turn to the charities we used to support.
But there are always ways to give, even when your own pockets are empty. Upon cleaning out my youngest daughter’s closet of quality toys she no longer plays with and nice clothes that no longer fit, I turned to the garage in rounding up the donations for the charitable thrift. I donate by season. With children, I always have items to donate.
And there it was, the beautiful antique table, unused for years sitting in my garage and my neighbor’s garage before. I sighed knowing it was time to let it go. It will be many years before either of my daughters will need it and who knows where they’ll be when the time comes, they could be living on the other side of the planet.
So the table went to the charitable thrift store where I know it will sell for a handsome but fair price to someone who will be thrilled to have it and will put it to use now.
I’ll bet there are items in your home that are not in use that another person needs. When we let go of those items not only to we help a charitable organization, we open the possibility for another person to honor that object and welcome it’s use.
Maybe when my daughters are grown, there will be a beautiful table waiting for them in a thrift store to help them outfit their new homes. I don’t like to think of them leaving the nest, but they will someday. Hopefully they will participate in the thrift market. Maybe by then, reuse will be more common than now.