I was not really exposed to thrift stores until I was in university and we were looking for costume ideas for Halloween. The first time I walked into the Value Village downtown with my friends, I paused with the sheer size of it. Inside, there was a buzz. They instantly fell into the flow and groove of the store. Crowded and many people on the same mission in October, knowing this was the treasure trove of finds.
After university, I moved to the big city and started working in a law firm. I was purchasing my clothes from fashion-centred Robson Street or classy 12th Avenue (my mum introduced me to 12th Ave which was slightly out of the downtown core and just as difficult to find parking). But as I was furnishing my place, my very own place without roommates or their boyfriend, I wanted to find items with character. And I knew that would not come from a store – garage sales, through friends, thrift stores were bountiful.
Then rather unexpectedly and too soon, my mum passed away from a short but valiant battle with an aggressive form of cancer. As the only daughter, and I was single, items my dad started to purge from their life came into my life. He downsized, he simplified, and I gained a household of knickknacks.
I did settle down, get married, and have kids. Two amazing daughters. We separated when they were two and three. I was a full-time single mum on a very limited income, with a parent who really limited their financial contribution to or for our children. I had already said goodbye to my once lustrous career and salary before my second was born. Their dad and I both agreed that I would leave my career to be a stay-at-home mum and raise our daughter’s rather than put them in care. We would make it work on just his salary.
I did not have a family salary, I had to start on my own again and money was tight raising two children on a limited income (I opened a home day care to bring in income but maintain the role of raising our children). In the community I started my family, there are three thrift stores within what I would call two city blocks (it is the main strip of our community). The winter jackets in almost brand-new condition I would find for $3 or at most $10 for either child was affordable for me.
My best and favourite memories are thrift store shopping with my daughter’s. As young kids, they learned this was one store where they could ask for a small item and the answer would be yes. They would find the cutest figurine, or a book to look at, or a tiny picture frame for $0.25. At the Toys R Us store, they ask for things and my first question is always “How much?” they would answer, and I would reply “One day”. At thrift stores, the answer was usually yes when they asked for it.
I feel over the years I, or we, have found some really cool finds. Things that mean something to us and perhaps nothing to everyone else. We cleanse their energy and welcome these items into our home to become ours. They are placed on shelves or dressers or in my kitchen and become a part of us. I have extra love for these items because of their history and character, and our family is building on that.
~
Fire.
We lost our house. With all our belongings. All our treasures, trinkets, memories, stories – burned to the ground.
Ash.
~
My daughter’s and I were in a very unique position. We had the clothes we wore that day, and they had their school back packs, and I had my purse. That is what we were left with in that pile of ashes.
Months – blurry, coping, survival.
After nine months, we moved into an unfurnished home and were starting all over. Kitchen cutlery, can opener, dishes – it was overwhelming. We had spent the first month in a hotel and then the following eight months in a furnished rental. Everything from kitchen spices to linens was included for us.
During this time in the furnished rental, I had started to look for similar pieces of furniture I had. There were certain styles I liked and wanted again. But the emotions behind the process and life I was in was intense. There was no more joy in looking for items because I was now “replacing”. Insurance hammered that word into me in any of our conversations.
“Receipts” and “replacing” – it left me feeling more deflated than I already was. My mood brightened once we were in our new rental. It had big windows and lots of natural light. And without any furniture, or much in the way of personal belongings, it was big and spacious. My daughter’s and I were immediately transformed into excitement as we built our new home and furnished it in our fashion and our style.
During this period, we were also living under a pandemic, so shopping was really limited and has changed. I was turning to online local sites to find items, and it was fun. The three of us would huddle up around my laptop and we would start searching. Each of them was able to express their tastes rather than just grow up in a room that was furnished by parents when the child had not even been born.
While our mindset had shifted with a positive turn, there were still items each of us wanted to “replace”. There were certain books we wanted to replace, some easy to find, some hopeful we would find. We wanted our china teacup collection, or certain toys or figurines like Wade (the otter remains elusive for me). Each of us had lost our baby china and silverware (quite common gifts in my family when a baby is born) and we had a list of items we “hoped” to replace one day.
We knew that any item we found would NOT replace the item we lost. It was a mirror.
School started and after months of home learning and summer vacation, kids were back in brick-and-mortar schools. There was a semblance of “normalcy” provided in our lives, and that allowed us to check-out the thrift stores. In our new location, there was three within a ten-minute drive so nearby and not inconvenient.
It was a bittersweet process.
Very bittersweet.
We were out for the day on a beach day. After all we had been through, the three of us found great comfort and solace at the beach playing in the sand and dancing in the waves. It was an autumn day, and the sun was warm on our bodies. We knew we were nearing the end of our “summer” days. There was the smell of the ocean, the salt, the seaweed.
Our sun-kissed bodies were driving home with the windows rolled down and the music loud with all of us singing along. At a light, I noticed a thrift store we had not been in yet. I asked the girls if they wanted to check it out and they excitedly said, “Yes!”
We have learned to not have any expectations about any of us finding a “replacement”, we know all of us are always feeling hopeful. This trip, we each had a small victory of finding a treasure that now dwells within our home.
When we entered, our practice would be to meander and gradually meet in the book section. By the time the three of us had gathered amongst the shelves of books, my oldest and I held something in our hands. I had found three purple candle holders in the shapes of stars. Purple is my favourite colour, three represents the trifecta of my daughter’s and myself, and the star has a double meaning. During the day, I think of sea stars and the hours my mum and I or my daughter’s and I would search for sea stars, and of course the purple were always my favourite! During the night, I think of the starry sky and the stars that I associate in the night sky with those who are no longer with us.
The following summer after my mum had passed away, I was at the kitchen doing dishes after dinner, daily activity for me, and I saw a bright, twinkly star. I was mesmorised by this star. Every night after my initial discovery. Until autumn and cloudy night skies. I felt my mum in that star, and we would talk. I still see that star in our place now as we rebuild our lives. It is the first star that appears upon sunset, and there is one not far off from it that I call “Grandma”, my mum’s mum.
My oldest was holding something brass like in her hand, and as her eyes gazed over the books, her hands were holding onto it in a very comforting and endearing way. I cuddled into her and asked her what she found. She adjusted her hands in front of her to reveal a jewellery holder. The years leading up the house fire, she was in LOVE with unicorns. And we had found her a very beautiful unicorn jewellery holder that was an absolute treasure for her. She pulled the item back into her body and our eyes found each other. I asked her if this was the one and she said, “yes”. Her eyes smiled and my heart shed a tear as I saw my girl grow into new interests and desires. Her jewellery holder was an elephant – an animal that appeared on all her baby items because her name starts with “E” and an animal that has intrigued her for years. Her unicorn phase is complete, and this item ties in both her baby years and her emerging adolescent years.
My youngest was on her knees looking at the lowest shelf. This was also her favourite shelf because all the little books were found here, and those were her desired books. She is neurodiverse and while she has a love for books, she encounters challenges with her ability to read. She works hard and is reading, but after trauma there is regression. And for her, she had lost all that was familiar. She needed familiar.
I heard a gasp, and my eyes went to the source. She had pulled away and was sitting upright. Her hands were near here face, and she was staring down at some unknown small object in disbelief. My oldest and I knew to stay quiet and to not interfere with her discovery. She moved in, her hands fumbling the books, and when she had retrieved it, she held it ever so tightly in both hands and smiled as she stared at “Our Haunted House”.
She is an October baby and she loves Halloween, not the really scary stuff, just the cute scary stuff. Years ago I had found a copy of “Our Haunted House” at a thrift store and bought it for her not knowing if she would take to it. It was small and it was not about scary Halloween. We all loved this story, my oldest and I would take turns reading it (as she was the then emerging reader), and it created a new desire for my youngest to keep reading on her own.
Each of us found a small treasure that made its way into our hands in that moment, and we drove home finding peace and happiness in our thrift store finds. But it is the random discovery of that book, not just once but twice, that is the greatest find for the three of us. And on nights my youngest reads this book to herself quietly in her room, I see her pause and hold the book with her eyes closed for a moment before she returns it to its spot.
About the Creator
Sara Christine
she/her
Welcome to my challenge pieces for VOCAL...each pushing my writing to a new level.
At the heart of it, I want to write to evoke emotion within you, my reader, through my words.
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