Just what I needed most

Cold mornings, numb fingers, delicious hot chocolate with the perfect ::shhhhwoop:: of whipped cream floating on top...
Since the age of 5 until last May, these things had been my weekly routine.

I first started out helping my father sell at the local street fair. Actually.. I just went along with him instead of staying home alone. Little by little, I started helping him set up the booth and talking to people... and before we knew it, I was a fierce little salesgirl.

And then I'd bring my rollerblades with me and skate around the entire place, and pretty soon everyone know who I was.
It's a bit interesting to note the transformation that took place around that age. After my mother's death when I was five, I was pretty withdrawn for a while. I didn't want to play; I was just sad. There's this giant gap in my memory where I don't remember anything at all the months following her death. It's just this dark period in my childhood.

The street fair turned this shy little girl into a talkative, friendly little kid who could always be found with some remnant of lunch stuck to her face and grass stains on her jeans. Looking back, I was pretty funny to look at. My father had no idea how to comb a little girl's hair, he had no idea on how to dress me... i didn't really have time to worry about what I was wearing because I was too busy worrying about my scalp being ripped off my skull from the intensely tight pony tail he had inflicted upon me.

I became a fixture at the street fair. I knew where every booth was, I knew all the gossip because the adults thought that I was too young to understand what they were talking about.. ("Dad! Did you know that so-and-so has a boyfriend now because she says she needs the organisms that her husband won't give her?") So maybe I was clueless.. but I became an invaluable source of fresh news.
Everyone watched me grow up. They kept me in check; I couldn't do anything without it getting back to my father. Eventually the rollerblades came off and by the time I could drive, I would just set up the booth with my father, leave for the day, then come back to help pack up.

Then he died.

I took over the booth and did it by myself. I found comfort in hearing stories about my dad from vendors and customers alike. I never felt orphaned when I was there. If I missed a day, I'd get grief from my neighbors the following weekend. And when my birthday rolled around, they'd surprise me with cake at 6am. I never once felt alone when I went to the street fair.

Street fair season runs from October-May. I said my goodbyes last May with all the intentions of returning in October. But I didn't go back. I was in such a rut emotionally and I really felt that I was done selling at the fair. Because I was a mess, I barricaded myself for while and didn't call people back when they called to see if I was okay. I just didn't want to talk to anyone. By the time I was okay, I felt dumb for not keeping in touch with people, which just continued my avoidance of their calls.

So last weekend I finally went back. And it was fantastic.
I lost my old space so they just put me in an empty one for the day... but people still managed to find me. I really expected to get yelled at for not being there, but everyone was so nice and just happy to see me again.
And... as funny as this sounds...
I was a total Street Fair Celebrity.

While I was waiting for my space, I made conversation with a new guy.
"So... have you sold here before?"
"Oh yeah, I pretty much grew up here. I've been coming here for like 15 years or so."
He didn't seem to believe me until 5 different vendors walked by and greeted me by name. One lady even started with the classic "I've known her since she was this big!"
He then looked at me. "So you weren't kidding."
"Nope."

I went to buy some coffee, and after a brief conversation, he wouldn't let me pay for it.
My breakfast burrito was free.
Later when I was hungry, I went to buy some yummy dates and pistachios. My attempts to purchase those were denied with a smile and "This time its on me" in Spanish.
It was just so nice. By the end of the day I was exhausted, I didn't make as much money as I had hoped... but I was happy. Really really happy.

And for a moment, I felt my father pat me on the back.

I can't wait until next weekend!