In our neighborhood, there is a yard sale every Saturday morning. For my daughter and me, it has become part of our 1 routine (惯例). Bu last week, an unexpected experience changed he way I thought of yard sales. I started noticing that behind the things on the tables, there were often 2 .
One day, as we walked into a stranger's yard as always, I greeted the old gentleman siting behind his tables in the 3 way: "Morning! Beautiful day for a yard sale!". He 4 us back.
And then, I noticed what he was selling—plates, mugs (马克杯)，toys, . . . almost 5 on sale was with a dachshund (猎肠犬) face.
"You really like your 6 !" I said.
"Yes, " the seller replied. "We kept him for a long time 7 my wife died. Then I sent him away. "
The "gate" slowly and carefully 8 and his story came out. His only child died eight years ago and sadly, his wife passed away last winter. He's been keeping himself busy by cleaning out the house.
I gradually got embarrassed because I had 9 thought of yard sales as something sad. In the past, the fun and challenge of going to a sale, 10 someone else's things, and seeing how cheaply you could get them was the whole point of yard sales. I had never thought of the fact that some things appeared on a yard sale table probably for some special 11 .
Meeting this sad man helps me to 12 that things are not just things. They all have stories that want to be 13 when there is no one left in their family to hear them again. 14 , these realizations (领悟) have made me love yard sales even more.
I put the dachshund toy from the gentleman in my car, reminding myself to be 15 as we look forward to the next yard sale and the stories we may hear. The more stories I hear, the better I come to understand life.
