Monday, June 27, 2011


I exclaimed with hurt and disappointment. The look of panic on my face caught both my mother's and the lady who was holding my precious lamp by surprise.

My mom had been holding a yardsale. I had not noticed that in the middle of all that stuff was "my lamp." It was the lamp I had grown up with on my nightstand for most of my life. Mom and Dad had bought it with Top Value Stamps. (remember those)

I was surprised at my reaction as well and clamped my mouth shut as soon as the words shot out of my mouth.

"Mom, you can't sell my lamp!," I protested. I could tell my mom was torn. There was no way she could realize how much I had loved that lamp growing up. Still, the woman had it in her hands ready to purchase it. There was really nothing she could do about it.

Fortunately, the woman had a heart. She could tell the lamp meant the world to me, so she smiled at me and handed it over. I ran into the house with my prize. I was flabbergasted that my mom would sell something that meant so much to me.

I got to keep it.

I had already moved out of the house a couple of years before the yard sale. I loved that lamp. It had a marble base and an irridescent pearlized base with a floral shade that had a ruffle on top and bottom. I had read more books by the light of that lamp than I could ever count. It had been mine since grade school.

I kept the lamp even after it quit working. I always intended to rewire it but never got around to it. I lost it when I got sick and I lost pretty much everything I had ever owned. Now it's gone.

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