Yard Sale

It was just something to do on a Saturday morning. The sun is shining, not too hot, the wind is blowing just enough to keep the sweat off. A perfect day to wander through yards looking through other people's junk in search of treasure.

She didn't expect to find anything. Not really. Maybe a new to her coffee mug, a pretty picture to hang in her new apartment. That is the reason she is taking her precious Saturday to go yard saleing. Having recently moved out of her parents house after graduating from college, she has the bare bones of a home and is looking for items to flesh it out. With just a starting teacher’s salary, yard sales seem the optimal place.

She goes from place to place, picking up, as expected, a few nick-nacks. At one stop, she picks up a picture that will go great over her second hand couch. A few more stops, she decides, and then she will head home and get busy grading her darlings first, first grade papers.

“What is this?” She thinks as she picks up the strange looking cup. Or is it? Yes, it has the shape of a cup, one that is stretched out. Heavy like it was made with something a bit more substantial than ceramic. She is intrigued and imagines it sitting on her classroom desk, filled with coffee.

“That, it has an interesting story,” the lady running the sale walks over, a baby dangling off her hip. A toddler clings to her leg as she walks over to her potential customer, “it has been in my husband's family for many years. No one knows quite where it came from,” a shrug as the baby grabs at her fallen hair, “No James,” she removes his hand before continuing, “the story is lost to history, I guess.”

“Are you sure you wish to part with it?”

The other woman smiles as she changes hips. The baby, James, gives the new lady his mommy is speaking with a gummy smile. She returns it.

“With the children we have pared down the breakable stuff. My husband and I prefer mugs that keep our coffee hot,” she moves to pull the toddler off her leg, “now Ruthie, I told you the people won't hurt you. They are just here to help Mommy and Daddy get rid of some stuff,” back to her customer, “hard enough to do with these guys. I can let it go for five dollars.”

It is a bit high for a yard sale mug but it is so unique, it is well worth it.

“You have a deal.”

At home, she removes the various bags, sitting them on her dining room table. Last to be brought in was the strange mug. She takes a seat and removes it from the newspaper it's original owner had wrapped in. Once again, she studies it.

Clay mixed with something else, she decides, is what it is made of. Not fully smooth, handmade. She turns it over looking for a maker’s mark. She finds none. Hmm, made by an individual then.

Weirder and weirder. It wasn't that it was handmade. There was something else. Something past the physical. Metaphysical. Maybe.

“Crazy,” she mumbles to herself, “it is just a unique mug. That is all.” She sits it back on the table before moving the other finds to their new places in her apartment. After hanging the picture over the couch, she returns to the kitchen.

“What the…” There is a plant on her table, one she has been struggling to heal. The poor thing has, no had, yellowing to brown leaves and was wilting. She has been babying it with fertilizer though she wasn't sure it would survive. Now…

“Is someone punking me?” She says aloud as she stares at the plant. No longer does it have wilting brown/ yellow leaves. If that wasn't strange enough, it was blooming! Soft pink flowers cover it.

Sinking into a chair, she draws it to her. Not the same plant, she first thinks. Though who would have come into her house and switched over the plants, she can't say. Why they would, is another good question.

Even as she thinks this, she recalls thinking she needed to check its water and fertilize it again even as she carried her finds in. It was the same then. So what?

She looks from the healthy thriving plant to the mug. Why she placed the two together, she can't work out. Still it feels right. No matter how little sense it makes.

“How did you heal my plant?”

She carries the miraculous mug into her classroom two mornings later. The plant still continues to bloom. Everywhere she carries the mug, things improve. Her cut flowers stand tall, issues she had with the plumbing, minor things, are no longer issues. It made no sense but undeniably true.

She decided to bring it to school but not as what she brought it to be. Having purchased another coffee cup/ mug, she decided that her miraculous queer mug wouldn't be messed with. She isn't placing anything in it. She is bringing it to school to see if it's powers travel. Or if it is just her imagination. It has to be, right?

If it affects her classroom positively then she will know she isn't crazy. Not that it will make it make any more sense.

Entering before her darlings come in, she places the mug on her desk. She straightens the paperwork, organizing it for the day.

Her classes parapro comes in first. She notices the mug right away.

“What is this?” Picking it up, she gasps.

“What happened?” She jumps to her feet.

“It shocked me. Must be static electric. It is quite unique.”

“Yes, I picked it up at a yard sale. Thought to use it as a coffee mug but…”

“No, you don't want to do that. It is …”

She trails off and the teacher looks at her with a frown.

“Are you okay?”

“Very. My back pain is gone.”

They stare at each other. The entire year her friend has suffered from back pain caused by a slipped disc. She planned on seeing a surgeon about it over the summer.

“Are you on new pain meds or…”

“Nothing. It was hurting before I came in, before I picked up the mug.”

They both stare down at it. So, it isn't just her imagination. Her friend ‘s healing isn't something that can be glossed over or ignored.

“I have something to tell you about the mug but later.” The children were starting to come in.

It was the easiest day she had ever had. Not one outburst. One fight. Not even a bad attitude. They both share looks throughout it, not willing to say anything lest they break the spell.

When the children head to their art class, they sit down to talk.

She tells her friend and co-worker about the plant, the plumbing, and all the other strange things that have happened since she brought home the mug.

“I thought it was just my imagination. Thought it had to be.”

“I would have thought the same but the kids, my back…”

“Exactly. What is this?”

They both stare at it.

“It isn't cursed negatively. It brings life and peace, healing. Like…”

Again they look down at the mug.

“It couldn't be!”

“What other thing could it be, as weird as the idea is?”

“Jesus ‘ cup!” She whispers.

“The

Holy Grail.” Her parapro crosses herself even though she is a Baptist not a Catholic.

“Holy crap!”