Patches

“How about these plates?” Allison asked. 

“Sure, honey.” I say. “I haven’t used these in years.”

I was in my parent’s attic with my daughter, Allison. We were looking for old stuff we could sell at our garage sale this week. After a whole hour, we only had some figurines. Oh, and some plates. 

“Oooh!” Allison said. “What’s in here?” She looked up at me with her eyes shining, and handed me a box labelled “Eva’s Wonderful Things” in big, childish letters. I smile and take the box from her outstretched hands.

“These,” I say. “Were all my favorite things growing up. When I was fourteen, I decided that I was too mature for my toys. I tossed out the ones I didn’t like, and put my favorites in here. I haven’t seen this box in at least twenty-five years.”

“When I turn fourteen, do I have to do that?” Allison asked, a worried look on her face.

“You don’t have to do that if you don’t want to,” I laugh. “Besides, missy, you still have seven years to think about it.”

I open the box, using my nails to easily tear through the old masking tape. I hold up a board game I had made when I was six called “Happy Kitty Funland”. 

“Wow, Mommy. I’m seven and I could do better than that.” Allison says, a funny smirk on her face.

“What would you call it then, Allie-bear?”

“Rainbow Funshine World Game.” Allison says, determination in her tiny voice. 

“Much better.” I say, stifling back a giggle. “Oh! Here’s my stuffed animals!”

“What kind?” Allison says. 

“A dog, a kitty, a moose, oh…” I stop suddenly, holding one close to my heart. 

“What’s that, Mama?” Allison asks, peeking over my shoulder.

“It’s Patches. Patches the bunny. I… I didn’t know it was still here. I got him on my second birthday.”

“Do you want to keep it?”

“No. I’ve had enough time with it...but…” I say, holding back tears. I do really want to keep it, but what would I do with it? What would my coworkers, my family, my friends, think if they knew I, a thirty-seven year old financial analyst, had a stuffed bunny? I reluctantly toss it in the “sell” pile. We make short work of the rest of the box, just some dolls and crafts. 

“Mommy, I’m hungry!” Allison says. 

“Well, I guess we’ve done enough. Want to hit the drive through for shakes and fries?” 

“Yes! Chocolate, please!”

We leave the attic and say goodbye to my parents and their dog, too. Then I help Allie into the car and hop in myself. I shift the gear and we’re off to the town diner’s drive through. 

At home we sip our shakes and dip our fries in them as well. 

“Allie, tomorrow we’ll have to start assigning prices to our stuff. Remember, we also have our stuff from the basement, and I need you to look through your dress-up clothes and we can sell what doesn’t fit, okay?” I tell her. 

“Why can’t Daddy be here to help us?”Allison asks.

“Honey, you know he’s at work. He’ll be back in a few weeks time.” My husband-her father- was in New York City getting a job interview for a position in air traffic control at JFK Airport. 

“Well, it’s already nine! You need to be in bed, Allie-bear. Get your jammies on and I’ll come tuck you in in just a minute.” She scampers up the stairs and into her room. I sigh, and begin to haul myself off to my own room to change as well. We need to rise early tomorrow morning so we can sort things for the sale. 

In the morning I am awoken by a shaking. Allie is sitting on my chest, grabbing my shoulders and yelling “Get up! Get up!” into my ears. I roll her over to the other side of the bed and sit up. She’s already dressed in a yellow tee with a rainbow and blue leggings. 

“Allie cat, go wait in your room and read or draw, okay?” I say. When she’s gone, I change into my own outfit-grey tee and black sweats. 

When I go downstairs, I make coffee for myself and pour a cup of juice for Allison, who’s sitting at her seat at the island. She watches intently as I flip the pancakes and serve them up with berries and whipped cream. I laugh when she only eats the whipped cream, but I make sure she has at least a few bites of the rest. 

“Ok, Mommy! Let’s label! The sale is tomorrow? Or today?”

“Tomorrow. I don’t think we could make it if it was today!” I laugh. I get out the boxes of garage sale stuff and spread it all out on the carpet, arranging by books, toys, kitchen, clothes, decorations, and etcetera. 

“Okay, Allison. How much do you think we could sell this book for? It’s one-hundred pages.”

“Um, a bajillion dollars. Or two.”

“Two dollars sounds good,” I say, sticking a label on the cover with the price. “Honey, why don’t you bring down your old dress up stuff. You can charge between fifty cents and five dollars for each piece, but you can pick what costs how much.”

“Okay!” Allison says and prances away to her play closet. 

Okay, Evelyn. Now you can focus, I think to myself. After finishing the books, I start on toys. I hold up Patches and hug him again. Evelyn, don’t be a baby! Do one dollar. Get it over with. I reluctantly stick a tag on his ear. 

Luckily after Patches, I have no more moral conflicts over what to sell. After three long hours, Allison and I finish and set the stuff up in the garage so it will be easy to put in the yard tomorrow.  

The next morning we are ready to go! By ten’o’clock we have everything put out and signs set up. Quite a few people come and buy our old junk, even the creepy elf cookie jar I thought nobody would want. When a lady with two kids comes up to the stand, I notice that the kids have picked up Patches. The woman talks with them for a minute, and then turns to me. 

“How much?” she asks. 

“Oh, uh, they can have it. On the house.” I say.

“Are you sure?” When I nod, she turns to the kids and whispers something to them. 

“Thank you!” They yell to me, and then proceed to dash across the street with their mom chasing after them. I use the back of my hand to wipe away a few small tears that escaped from my eye. Two hours pass, and I am just not present in my own body. I can’t remember half of what happened. All I know is that Allison helps me put the few straggling items in a box that says “FREE” on it, and we go inside. I’m distant for the rest of the evening. But right before her bedtime, Allison tells me to follow her. I do, and when we go in her room I see Patches on her bed. 

“How, oh how did you get that Allison? Did you steal it?” I ask.

“No, Mom, of course not!” she said defensively. “The kids who got it go to my school. They’re in first grade. I had them get it and I said I would give them the money back if they returned it for you, but you giving it to them free solved that. And they came back to give it to me before dinner. And now you have it back.” I can’t help myself, and this time I don’t attempt to hide my tears. 

“How did you know I didn’t want to sell it?”

“I could tell, Mommy.” She hands Patches to me. But I set him down. 

“Honey, I can’t thank you enough. But I think-” I swallow. “I think you should keep him. If you promise to take good care of him.” I open my arms and adopt Allison into a warm, loving embrace. The nod she gives me is enough. And when she hugs Patches and hops into bed, I tuck her in with a big kiss. 

I am the luckiest mother in the world.