Now Playing: “Suite for Flute and Orchestra in A minor.”

The good-byes just keep happening.

At two o’clock this afternoon I was supposed to meet Anna downtown to go resale shopping. I thought I was going to be late, but I ended up hanging about Elite Repeat for a wee bit before she and Elizabeth arrived. We spent the rest of the afternoon together and had a grand old time! We poked all over Elite Repeat first. Elizabeth plunked out some sour notes on the baby grand piano that someone donated. We inspected the china collection, the knickknacks, the baskets, the photo frames. Anna found a Harry Potter poster for her room at the Ws’ house. We looked at all the used kitchenware, Mason jar glasses, old flatware, potholders, and all sorts of odds and ends. Anna found a pair of adorable black-and-white shoes. Elizabeth found a whole stack of children’s books. I found a couple of tops. We combed that whole store, and at the very end, back among the knickknacks, I found a tiny pewter owl, just a wee figurine, its wings tucked elegantly about its feet. Seventy-five cents, and the owl is sitting on my desk, watching me, debonair.

We continued our stroll down Main Street and came upon a boutique that I’d never been in. “Let’s go in here,” I said on a whim, so we did. Poked about. All pretty, artsy, hippy stuff—purses made out of rice sacks that enchanted Elizabeth, various creative wire holders for photos, candles shaped like apples or hyacinths, Fair Trade jewelry, glassware, journals, etc. Colorful extravagant “eco-friendly” stuff. Then we went down to the Antique Mall.

The dusty, moldy air nearly choked me. Claustrophobia ensued as we dove into tiny rooms crammed with so, so, so much stuff: antique furniture, endless shelves of glassware, old clothes, LPs and cassette tapes, books, mirrors, photos in frames, dolls, baskets, jewelry, an endless assortment of people’s possessions, faded, tarnished, scratched, scuffed, torn, set aside for whatever reason. Some of the bric-a-brac had tags that proclaimed that such-and-such a piece was a collector’s item, but most of it was shoved together higgledy-piggledy. Near the front there were some handmade tie-dye clothes by a local artist, and Anna bought a pretty aqua-and-gold skirt. There was a whole shrine dedicated to Elvis and to artists from the 80s. Somewhere in the middle of the labyrinth we found the children’s books, and lo and behold, I found a copy of Harry Potter VII! Been looking everywhere for it, and here it was, hardback. I probably paid more for it than I would have paid for a new paperback, but I’ve finally met my goal of buying all the books used and not from Amazon. The three of us pored over the children’s books, exclaiming as we found ones that jogged our memories: Make Way for Ducklings, the Dear America diaries, Beatrix Potter (of course!).

By this time Elizabeth was starting to get parched, so we paid for our finds and walked back up Main Street to Aspen, chattering away merrily. Aspen, too, was nearly deserted. We sat at a table by the window and talked for an hour or so. Sweet time. Sitting at tea later, I realized suddenly that that time had passed and was strangely heartbroken. The three of us talked nonsense. A gorgeous spicebush swallowtail butterfly landed on a chair just on the other side of the window. Sparrows ate breadcrumbs from the sidewalk. The shadows lengthened across the storefronts across the street. When it was close to tea time, we walked back to our cars, and I said good-bye to Anna and drove home.