I went yard sales today.

I loved Saturdays with my dad. After my morning cartoons and lunch, we'd go biking around the neighborhood or go hunting for garage sales.

I remember we went to this house on a hill for a garage sale run by a kind old lady. We looked around at random things that were scattered about and I gravitated to the corner full of kid related toys, books, and junk. I picked up a brass piggy bank, and my dad can tell that I wanted it. "Go ask her how much it is." He always tried to get me to do things myself, build social confidence, that sort of thing. She told me it was 25 cents, and I ran back to my dad to ask for money. He gave me a quarter from his pocket, and I paid the nice lady. She crouched down so she was eye level with me, and dropped the quarter into the empty piggy with a clunk. "Here's a start to your collection. Here, have some books too. My grandson never reads these anymore." She handed me about 5 books. I looked at the book on top and the cover had what looked like a bunch of skeletons having a barbecue.

I love how I remember these little insignificant childhood memories.