I moved from Chicago to Brooklyn in July of 2010,just in time to watch my mother die. Our parents were both gone now; I took with me as many things they had left behind as I could. I was out walking one Saturday later that summer when something caught my eye - a pale green dress. Laid out on the pavement was stuff like earrings, glass candle-holders, books. Hanging on the fence behind were a few pairs of jeans and a green cotton dress. The woman, the host oPS the stoop  sale, looked like she was getting rid of a past she didn't need or want. A dress that was too big for her. A chest of drawers that took up too much space, space she needed, maybe, to heal ,recover, or grow. I wasn't planning on buying anything really, but now I needed to show her that I appreciated her things and I would give them a safe home. Then I had my first stoop sale --I paid her 20 dollars for her green cotton dress and her blue candle-holder, From that day on, I became interested in stoop sales. Some of my favorite things are from someone else's life. I find no joy in shopping at regular stores any more. I love trying to sniff out a memory from a bud vase or a drawer. It is comforting to know that someone has breathed and laughed inside a sweater before me. A few weeks ago, I carried my mother's dresses to a friend's stoop. These were her best items ,which were once worn by the most important person in my life. For many hours, I watched from across the path people advancing the stoop, some leaving with Mom1S dress. I used to think that her stuff was as forever sacred  as my memory of her, I know now that once I love a scarf or shirt too dearly,it needs to find a new home. Even that green dress is long gone by now. The author took her mother*s dresses after her death because   _
she valued the things used by her mom she didn't want to throw them, away she could sell them later they were her mom's best items