Rear Window Shopping
Every spring, my wife, Leah, and I make the three-day pilgrimage to Sanibel Island, Florida, from Grand Rap-ids, Michigan. My favorite parts of the drive are the farms, the blue sky, and the trees just as they’re coming into bloom. For Leah, it’s the antique shops. Year after year, if we’re within 100 yards of an antique shop, a flea market, or a garage sale, her radar pings, her eyes pop wide, and I hear those dreaded words: “Let’s stop for just a minute.” On our last trip, she was asleep when I noticed a sign for a flea market, so I sped up, hoping to sneak past. I nearly got away with it. Then a voice from the passenger seat said, “Thought I didn’t see that…