I Paint What’s Inside Me

Junk pickers in front of my parent's old house.
Junk pickers in front of my parent’s old house.

We opened the garage door of my parents old place at 8 this morning and there was already a handful of hungry garage sale hounds trying to get in. We brought all sorts of furniture out onto the driveway and then it would rain and we’d move it back in and when the rain let up we’d move it back out again. And all the while people came and left with their arms full.

A woman with a buzz cut came up to me with a vase that had been marked two dollars and asked if I would take five cents. I said, “We’ll, that’s one fortieth of what we were asking but sure.” The offer was so bold, I liked it. She turned out be a special person who was shopping with an aid. She said, “I hear you’re into art.” I said, “I’m way into art” and she said “I paint abstracts. I paint what’s in inside me.” I tried to give her encouragement but she didn’t really need any. I had placed a partially used, ten gallon bucket of drywall compound in the “Free Stuff” pile and a woman asked how much we wanted for it. I said free and she heard “three” so she gave my brother-in-law three bucks. My brother-in-law is good. He was even able to sell one of my father’s bricks.

My high school girlfriend stopped by and showed me a picture her grandson painted. It was great to see her. My parent’s next door neighbor kept stopping in, I mean like ten times, and she paid for all her purchases in quarters but each time she would negotiate the sale and then go back to her house for the coins. My father took us all down to Nick’s for dinner and Nick stopped by the table to tell us a few stories. Hadn’t heard the one about his brother-in-law winning thirteen million in the NYS lottery. Animated weatherman, Scott Hetsko, was dining with his family at the next table and The Chinchillas drummer was in the house.

Leave a comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *