Flea Market


The day dawned early, as it is wont to do when you have household occupied by a toddler and two babies. I shuffled groggily into the living room with a content and alert August in my arms. At least one of us is well rested, I thought with unabashed sarcasm.

I met Claudin, who looked about as chipper as I felt, in the common area. Balancing Ada on her hip as she prepared Charlie's breakfast, she looked up, barley acknowledging me. We were both too out of it to address the niceties our mother had worked so hard to instill. No "good morning" just a mutual glance that said, Yeah, i know. Me too.

We worked in silence, tending to our children and, if time allowed, ourselves. Those early-morning hours melded from one into the next and when 9:30 rolled around it seemed that we had already fit in so much into the day. Coffee, of course, was in order so off it was to our favorite cafe.

With renewed vitality, we resolved to brave the eighty-five degree heat and humidity to explore the treasures of the Raleigh Flea Market. In another life, this may have meant navigating the sea of vendors in search of the perfect accent piece to decorate the coffee table. But on this Saturday morning, it offered an array of stimuli for each of the children and we were happy to indulge.



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