Flea Markets . . . I have such a colossal urge to go to a flea market! The yearning hits me every year when the weather turns warm and we get sunny days again. Yep! A nice outdoor flea market (or indoor) would be great to poke around in. I love old stuff. Maybe it is the writer in me, but when I look at an old lamp or a book, I feel like I can touch a person from long ago, complete with an aura and a jolt from a time gone by. That is probably why I have my grandmother's old dining room set. Purchased in 1925, it graces now my teeny weeny so-called dining room. Let's face it. Out of place in that little room, it was designed for a spacious dining room like families had long ago to accommodate lots of kids. But it is not out of place in my heart. I run my hand along the wood and touch the souls of relatives long gone, some of whom I never met, like my Uncle Tommy who died during the war. I wonder what thoughts he had at the table. I can imagine my mother (gone now for many years) writing letters to my father, overseas during the war, her tablet and pen resting on its surface. All of his large family shared meals at the table long before I came along, and my own family used it when I was growing up. I did my homework there all through college. Yes, I love old stuff not for its physical value, but for its spiritual worth in illustrating a time gone by.