Thrift Shop
I descend clutching a teetering banister to the bowels of this holy place. A sign welcomes me to St. Mary’s Basement Boutique where scent of unloved clothing assaults me. I finger grubby blouses and skirts hanging limp week after week unwanted. Where is it? Hidden beneath mounds of faded tee shirts? Where is that swag I will brag on for months? At last I uncover something beyond belief….a mohair sweater snow white with pastel flowers. A good fit, my prayer answered. Retired ladies glance up. They are volunteers filling another empty afternoon. The cashier consults her price list. “One dollar” she says as I reply with quick “thanks” fleeing blissfully. When I get home, my bonanza is baptized in cool water and suds now reborn lustrous and all mine.