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. From the passage, we know that   _  .
the things the author bought from the woman are too big the author is fond of imagining others' life experiences the author will never shop at regular stores any more the author still keeps most of her mom's things