"I love your sweater. Where'd you get it?"
That's a conversation I heard on Glee last night. And as much as we all know how much I love Glee, this got my little brain thinking away.
I've always been very up front about my love of all things thrifty/goodwill/yard sale-esque, etc, and have never ever wanted to deny where I got my sweater for pete's sakes. Seriously? There are better things in life to fib about. Like my weight, for instance. But, that's a subject best left for another discussion or post.
This episode got me thinking about all of the second hand items in my life.
I'm not only surrounded by furniture and glass wear that is second hand, thrifted, or garage-saled, but the better part of my life has been 'second hand' for lack of a better word.
Growing up, as I did, with my grandparents gave me that one-degree of separation. They loved me, goodness knows they did, but there was that little bit of distance between our generations and while I'm wholly thankful for a lot of my beliefs and values that came from them, it felt like that second-hand sweater: A little frayed, with a string hanging off the sleeve, and pilly.
My child hood, I believe, gave me a unique perspective on love.
Don't mistake me. Because when I was a teenager, I wanted that kind of love I saw on Sixteen Candles. That new and shiny Jake Ryan-esque version of everything where the really hot guy came in and saved the day.
Who doesn't? For those few years of junior high and high school, everyone wants that kind of shiny perfect love.
I don't think anyone was more shocked than I when I found out that stuff doesn't exist.
It doesn't mean I didn't stop looking or believing for a long period of time.
And then in my early twenties, my path collided with my hubby's.
Looking back, if I had to liken us to a second hand item, I would say that we were both like these flower pots on the back shelf hiding behind the really shiny, pretty lacquered up Pier One cast offs. We would've been the serviceable terra cotta with the chips and small cracks down the sides.
We'd both been through a world of life at our young ages due to life experience....in flower pot speak, we'd weathered many a long hot summer.
Did I know, did I see how we would become? How over the years we would take on this gorgeous patina? Nope. Not even close.
But isn't that part of the deal when you take on something that's been given away/donated/consigned? No refunds, no returns.
Are we still those pots with the cracks and chips? Sure enough. And as we grow older together, I appreciate those 'imperfections' more than ever. I really like it that way.
Our love, second hand though it might be, is still the best bargain I've come across in all my years of being a 'thrifter'.