Photos and text by: Corey Amaro
After dropping our daughter off at the airport in Nice we went to the brocante. Every Monday there is a massive brocante right next to the Mediterranean. You probably think I planned it that way. You probably think I told Chelsea, "Hey Chels, reserve your airline ticket on a Monday, that way when you leave I can go to the Brocante and I won't be too sad."
But honest to God I did not mention Monday, nor the Brocante in Nice…
French Husband was surprised, "Did you plan it this way?"
"No," I said with a clear consciousness, "But isn't it convenient how it worked out?"
Poor guy, he was sad about our daughter leaving, then I added brocante to the wound.
Life is tough.
We walked around putting our thoughts in picture frames, in small boxes, gently covering them under quilts… We put our feelings between book pages, on plates, and tucked them between the stacks of postcards. We carried our memories and dreams as we walked along the vendors.
Antiques are wrapped with the sense of time: Forgotten, lost, yet at the same time old things have captured someone's heart, thoughts, moments just like ours…
We walked around, I bought a few things for my online shop.
We had lunch. French Husband ate an entire platter of pasta. I didn't eat much I had consumed a million antiques instead.
We talked about what we were going to do now that our main role as parents seemed to be changing.
Fortunately, for us our children are both happy, healthy and in a good place. Fortunately, French Husband and I can work anywhere as long as we have a phone and a laptop.
"What should we do?"
"What do you want to do?"
We both agreed on one thing, we are going to go out more often, and travel.
I'll be putting a ton of brocante smalls on my online shop during the next few weeks.
Tarnish bronze urn stood next to an older painting of a man without a name, nor the name of the artist. A large massive gilded frame without a painting wonder, "What happened to me? How did I get here?"
Toy soldiers marched upside down and backwards in an old box. Worn with years of childhood play. Where were the children now? Did they pass their toys on to the grandchildren? Did their grandchildren pass them on to their children? Did video games and T.V. leave these toys in the box?
The toy soldier blew his horn, "Forward march!"
But confused the other soldiers asked,
"Where do we go from here?"
French Husband gasped when he saw a stack of books, "Corey look!"
"Oh Honey, you got my number! Old greyish paper books with ruffled pages!" I purred.
But quickly came to my senses when he said, "Yeah, yeah, but look Jean Cocteau. The pages haven't been cut"
"Jacques Cousteau?" I thought out loud.
"150 euro for the series." The dealer chimed in.
We didn't buy the books.
If you had a year, free from responsibility, free to go anywhere you would like to go, or to do something you would like to do, free of any worry, concern, cost or other factor holding you back where would you go, or what would you do?
I look forward to your responses, your ideas, your dreams.
Leave a Reply