Author's note: Hope everyone is doing okay and staying safe. This is still my happy place. I miss y'all.

Sophia

Carl kicked the front door closed with his foot, too busy to pry his hands away from his new phone to bother with shutting the door like normal folks.

"Whoa! We're having a garage sale this weekend?"

He bit into his snickers bar, scrolling through his recently bought iphone. Rick teased that one day he was going to crash into a wall. These days the teenager only had eyes for his phone and Enid. Rick paused from tinkering with his old radio. He probably heard his eldest wrong.

"We're havin' a what now?"

"A garage sale. Mom posted it on Instagram. Saturday at ten. Everything must go." the teenager recalled, scrolling over his mother's post again. "You'd know this if you'd join instagram, dad."

"But tomorrow's Saturday. Your mother never said a word." Rick tilted his head, rose from his recliner and headed straight to the kitchen to have a chat with his wife. Carl decided to stay out of the kitchen, the heat was about to become unbearable.

Michonne was continuing her campaign on getting rid of everything. That was her mission. His wife decided it was perfectly acceptable to discard every bit of their accumulated memories to simply clear away the clutter in the abandoned room upstairs. She claimed the room was now ridiculously unbearable. Rick begged to differ, he loved seeing their old things all piled together like a montage of their lives. Like their first dining room table with the almost broken leg; they had several special moments around the small table with family and friends over the years. Granted, it was now upside down - a home of sorts for Judith's old dollhouse and old dolls. She'd traded them in over the years for the new and improved versions of Barbie's dreamhouse. He made a couple promises to Michonne that he and Carl would take a Saturday and clean it all out, but a free Saturday never manifested. He was called out to work most weekends and their lanky teenager had an active social life. Given the update, Rick had a mission of his own; keep everything. Throw away nothing. Stop Michonne at all costs.

"Babe…," he said, his tone tinged with sweetness.

"Mmm?" Michonne responded, stirring the pot of stew on the stove.

"Thought we said we were gonna give this garage sale some thought?" Rick tried not to be too distracted by the soft curve of his wife's cleavage in the pretty maroon tank top she wore.

"No." She shook her head. "You said you needed to think about it." Her response was strategic. She refused to allow Rick's sad, persuasive blue eyes to throw her off her goals. He was being ruled by his sentimentalities. Michonne opted for a more practical approach to her latest project.

"There isn't anything to think about, Rick. The garage sale is on." Rain, sleet or snow, it was on.

Rick grunted and folded his arms, stretching the white tee he wore across his chest to maximum capacity. Usually he had a 'whatever Michonne says goes' policy, but they weren't on the same page on this one. He couldn't understand the sudden need for spring cleaning in July.

He fell into step, helping her ferry the food from the kitchen counter to the dining table. Michonne sauntered next to him, bumping their hips. The bowl of garlic mashed potatoes in her hand never budged.

He smirked, knowing despite her angelic smile, his wife was a lawyer and just like dinner she was about to bring her case to the table.

"The timing is absolutely right. We need the space. The room upstairs is supposed to be a study room." Sometimes she wanted to bring work home and look over her notes uninterrupted. Their current setup didn't allow for it. Her shoulders shrugged. "Now it's the 'just throw it in there' room."

She felt guilty every time she glimpsed her kettlebells staring at her from the black abyss whenever she passed by.

"Didn't I say me and the boy are gonna clear it up soon?"

"When, Rick? You hardly have the time. Our weekends are now full of work or pickups and drop offs. Getting rid of the old stuff is the smart thing to do."

"So you're just gonna put a price on our memories?"

"A broken electric blanket isn't what I would classify as a memory." Her hand sat akimbo on her hip, her amused expression hitting Rick fair and square. She meant business.

"Wife…"

"Husband…"

"Somethin' tells me you have it all worked out?"

She pulled a mug of orange juice from the fridge and spoke over her shoulder. "You and Carl and the boys can move everything into the garage tonight. Judy and I already have a price tagging system going. I already posted on facebook, instagram and twitter, so everyone will be here. We just need your buy-in."

He remained skeptical of the fact that information was so imminent nowadays. He was unapologetic for not embracing the technological revolution. The need to tell everyone you were eating a doughnut was beyond ridiculous to him. Still, he couldn't argue with the benefits of keeping up with friends and family or announcing events like a garage sale.

He guessed Michonne had a point. There were things they needed to get rid of. There was only so much Marie Kondo-ing she could do in their would-be study. It was an avalanche now and could possibly be categorized as a fire hazard. He had a few things he hadn't used in a long time, maybe now was the right time to pass them on. For a price, of course.

"I guess It's time to get rid of all those old tools."

His concession was subtle. He couldn't let Michonne know she was good at winning him over.

"Those tools were already on my list, babe."

Rick chuckled. He cocked his head, "There's a list?"

"Yup. And the things we don't sell, we can donate to charity."

"Yeah." Rick shrugged, "Cause someone's gonna need a bag of beheaded barbies."

Their daughter had a knack for pulling off her dolls' heads when her interest began to wane, or when one of her aunties bought her a new one. Now they'd have no choice but to throw them in the trash. Michonne thanked the man upstairs that Judith was growing out of the stage where she constantly played with her dolls.

"I guess this means after dinner we got some work to do?" It was more of a statement than a question. The clutter upstairs wasn't going to move itself.

Carl returned to the kitchen, hoping it was all clear. He just really wanted to check on dinner. He was starving.

"Can we at least eat before this garage sale, parents?"

Michonne kissed their son on the head, happy that he was still receptive to her open affection.

"Go get the rest of the musketeers so we can eat."

"Eat all you can son, it's gonna be a long night." Rick called out to him, earning him the stink eye from his wife.

"So your man's a hoarder."

Andrea lost count of the boxes upon boxes stacked all over the Grimes' garage. "It could be worse."

She found a free space and dropped her own box of treasures on the table. When the girls heard Rick and Michonne were having a garage sale they all took advantage of the golden opportunity to get rid of some of their stuff too.

"Tell me about it," Michonne shrugged, still a bit in disbelief. Andrea was right, the chaotic scene in front of them could have easily been a season finale episode of Hoarders. The majority of things belonged to Rick, but between her and their four kids they had a plethora of items before them.

The sight was a garage sale addict's dream.

Aisle one, as Sasha called it, consisted of the kids' old bikes, along with power tools Rick hadn't used in years. They threw in Michonne's old designer handbags for aesthetic purposes. Combing through the area for any goodies, Andrea spotted a Braveheart DVD for sale next to a book titled, "Shopping Online - A Passing Fad."

"Damn, it smells like 1995 up in here. I can't believe Rick kept half these things."

Michonne was too ashamed to admit that a good portion of the table belonged to her. She was glad when a pretty lady in a yellow sundress asked her the price of an antique clock. The turnout so far was good. She was grateful for the sunny weather. There had been a steady flow of folks since around ten that morning. Someone had already left with a camping tent, a coffee maker and an old, but still new nightstand.

She was handing out cups of lemonade to her friends when she noticed Daryl trying to get her attention.

He held up a Michael Bolton coffee mug. "Chonne, this for sale?"

Michonne couldn't recall packing the prized collectible in the box of wares to be sold. Rick must've thrown it in there, probably out of spite knowing how much she loved Michael.

Rick hated that she loved him so much.

"Sorry, Dixon. Michael's not for sale."

She got the mug on a shopping trip with her mom. She loved Michael Bolton, and it'd be a cold day in hell before she parted with anything that had his face on it.

"It's yours for three bucks." Rick proffered, a sexy smirk lining his face, subtly daring her to defy him. Michonne rolled her eyes at the pair, her gaze unrelenting. Her husband would pay dearly for this subterfuge.

"Ma' would love this," Daryl said, handing Rick a crumpled three bucks. Michonne knew her argument would be overruled. She was prepared to argue on the very thing she was blaming Rick for; selling their old stuff was the point of the entire exercise.

She conceded silently.

Michael had to go.

Michonne moved on to help Maggie with the load of pyrex dishes she'd brought over before the heartache over losing her Michael mug was too much to bear. The elderly couple from across the street - The Tatums, had been perusing shelves and tables for the past ten minutes. Mrs. Tatum, a fanny pack in her hand, approached Michonne and Maggie. "How much for the fanny pack, honey?"

The silver designer fanny pack looked practically brand new. Michonne couldn't recall where she'd gathered the throwback from wayback, but she was glad to part ways with it.

"Ten bucks and it's yours."

"Sold." Mrs. Tatum handed over the cash. She was smiling as though she'd just gotten a bargain at Macy's.

Andrea let out a hearty laugh from the other end of the garage, she and Rosita were discovering miscellaneous knick knacks in a box that was yet to be unpacked. They really had a lot of stuff to get rid of.

"Hey, Rick?" Andrea thrusted the archaic find into the air for all their friends to witness. "The nineties called, they want their discman back."

Rick walked up to his wife's best friend and pried the discman from her hands.

"This isn't for sale. I plan to give this to Carl one day."

Carl spun around, appalled, "Really, dad?" Carl questioned, pointing to his ipod, almost as thin as a piece of paper. The dichotomy of the two musical devices was telling in a Flintstones meet the Jetsons kind of way.

"That's got to hurt. Defeated by technology and a member of the Gen Z population." The snark came from Andrea who was relishing in the father son display. Even she had to admit she missed the good old days. She loved rocking curtain bangs and oversized denims.

"Fine. Sell it. The money's yours."

"Cool!" Carl said, grabbing a blank price tag and a marker from the box in front of him. His father was finally speaking a language he understood.

Andre dug in the box next to Andrea after his Godmother whispered something into his ear. "Dad, what's a pager?"

Rick walked over to Andre to take a closer look at history. The pager felt weighted in his palm. "It's how we texted in the nineties, son." Answering made him feel as ancient as a woolly mammoth given the confused look on his boy's face.

"Wow, life was hard back then." Noah, Maggie and Glenn's adopted son said. He was seriously curious how the thing fit into a jeans pocket.

Michonne appeared in the yard again, Rick waved at her, "Babe, call my pager," he said in jest.

"Said no one in the last twenty years. Don't even sell it, just dump the thing." Sasha chimed in.

Rick felt a little defensive, but the communication inventions of the modern world was a giant leap from the bulky pager in his hand.

"You were in the cool club if you had one of these back in the day."

Rick laughed to himself, there was nothing swag about owning a pager today.

"All this talk about the good ole days, pretty soon you'll be making us do the macarena." Daryl teased. As if on cue Sasha broke out in the memorable dance moves of the hit spanish song. Coordination wasn't always her strongpoint.

"Is she having a seizure? Should we call somebody?" Maggie asked, half joking.

"I'm sorry life was so hard for you back then, dad." Carl patted Rick on the back. "What else did you guys struggle with?" Carl added, his tone full of sarcasm.

Rick didn't mind schooling the young ones. "We had floppy discs, pay phones, VCR's and disposable cameras, now you guys have it all under one roof. It's called a cell phone and you should be grateful you didn't have to struggle like us."

The modern world metamorphosed big time. It was like going from driving a honda to a benz.

"Hey, whatever happened to Blockbuster?" Daryl seriously wanted an answer.

"Man, I really miss Blockbuster." Rick commiserated with letting go of the past. Some things like Blockbuster would forever be memorialized.

"You still log into your AOL account, don't you buddy?" Glenn asked, laughing before Rick could respond.

"I'm sure there are people from KC High who still own a pager."

"Yeah," Andrea laughed. "And you know what we call them? Virgins."

The adults bellowed with laughter.

As much as Rick hated to agree with Andrea, she had a point. With all the advances they were making in technology - machines were landing on Mars every day after all - the pager, like Emcee Hammer, wasn't going to make a comeback.

Without a second thought he threw the pager in the garbage bin.

"What about this Lauryn Hill tee shirt?" Rosita dug through table three, she was considering buying the pretty top for herself.

Michonne reached across from where she stood chatting with Maggie and grabbed the memorabilia. "Sale not authorised."

Rick folded his arms and stared at his wife and her glaring hypocrisy.

"Really, Michonne?"

"What?" Her tone was full of defense. "This is from the first concert you took me to."

She remembered she wore the top for a full week after Rick gifted it to her. Her boobs were glorious in it and she was okay giving Rick a full education of Michonne Grant when she was wearing it. Did it matter that she hadn't worn it in years?

"Sold for fifteen bucks, Rosie." Rick's confident tone was concerning, considering he was caught up in a comical tug of war with Michonne for the top. It lasted a few seconds until he yanked Michonne into a kiss. He finally won and handed it over to an eager Rosita.

"Pleasure doing business with ya, Rick." She threw a kiss to Michonne.

"Not. Fair!"

Michonne was beginning to think her friends were benefiting a lot more than she was from their garage sale. She was the one giving Rick a hard time about letting go of old stuff, but she was beginning to have second thoughts about the tangible parts of their past. She was slowly realizing she wasn't as ready as she thought to let go. Michonne was nothing but practical, so she knew while she wanted to reminisce on every quirky item in front of her, they simply did not have the room to keep it all in their house. She and Rick had been married for ten years, forming a blended family from inception. Rick had five year old Carl and she had Andre who was only one at the time. During the ten years they had Judith and RJ who were six and seven respectively. She wasn't exaggerating when she said they were running out of space in their five bedroom home. Rick's latest project was turning one of the rooms into a walk-in closet, because he was tired of walking all over Michonne's shoes, which he claimed had no place of belonging.

Rick walked off victoriously to give Daryl a high five.

"I thought hubby over there wasn't too keen on this garage sale." Andrea said, pulling Michonne out of her thoughts. "But it's you."

"There are a few things I think shouldn't be sold is all." She wasn't having separation anxiety. There were some things that maybe shouldn't be given away.

"You do know the inability to part with trivial items can be classified as an illness, right?"

'I'm not a hoarder if that's what you're insinuating." Michonne rolled her eyes at Andrea's quip. "How is the office without me? How's your case going?" She digressed on purpose. Andrea let out a puff of air. Her pretty face told all of her frustrations when it came to work. The garage sale was a much needed break as much as it was a profit making venture. Even if she wasn't too pleased about parting ways with her old, still in a good condition, haven't worn it in a long time because she bought new ones, designer shoes and handbags.

"We have two main suspects and not an ounce of evidence to tie them to the robbery."

She handed over a red Prada clutch to an eager teenage girl in exchange for fifteen dollars.

"It was not a happy day for the prosecution."

"I'm sorry, Drea."

"In other words, we miss you."

"I'll be back in a week." Michonne's vacation was already dwindling right before her eyes. Thankfully, she got one big task out of the way. The house was now lighter for it as much as she was sad to see some things go. She glimpsed over at Rick who was selling more of his gadgets to three guys who had been wandering around the garage for a while. He didn't look remorseful, he actually looked pleased with himself seeing the men leave with two boxes of stuff. She was clearly the only one experiencing nostalgia. The sentiment surprised her. She was fully prepared to soothe Rick today, but she was the one struggling with her feelings. She tried to brush it off, the day was half over and they had more boxes inside to unpack. Her hope was by the end of the day the gain would outweigh the loss.

"Well, I'm exhausted." Sasha announced, counting the stash of cash in her hand. By far, she had sold the most stuff that day. She prided herself on not being as sentimental as her friends. Garage sales had a way of being profitable if you kept your emotions out of it.

"How is it that you had the least amount of items and made the most money out of all of us?" Michonne asked incredulously.

"Easy," Sasha shrugged. "I viewed this as a business venture and not a trip down memory lane." Her pitch was sarcastic in nature, pointing fingers to the guilty would've been less obvious.

"Oh, so now you're just throwing shade," came from Rosita.

"Why are you even talking Rosie, you made a stash too. I can't believe people bought your dust collectors."

"I spent as fast as I earned today. It's always been my downfall."

Considering she held a tote bag of her friends' shoes, clothes and handbag, she should just keep her mouth shut.

Andrea held up a discarded tee shirt, "'Get the scoop on animal puke' What the hell, Chonne? Some of these things need a lighter and some gasoline."

"I couldn't agree more.'' Michonne directed Andrea to the bin. There was no way she owned the thing. Parting with it was easy.

"Three christmas trees were sold today? Three? Really?" Rosita's tone felt judgy.

Michonne held her palms up, she was guilty as charged.

Every year she tried to outdo herself with Christmas decorations. Rick allowed her, so the hoarding wasn't entirely her fault. She said nothing today when a family of four drove away with two of the three Christmas trees. All she could think about was the first year they celebrated Christmas as a family. In a quick series of events the tree almost caught a fire. Rick tripped over the trains they set up for the kids trying to catch the tree topper before it fell to the ground. They'd laughed for days on end about it. Why wouldn't they want to keep the tree as a reminder of that special bonding time?

Okay, so she realized she added a fair share to the clutter. Rick's fishing rods and camping gear had sold in the first hour. The so-called priceless junk had been bought for a fair price and her husband actually looked proud. What was important to Rick was that the things he took pride in weren't going to waste. Now that he'd seen firsthand that their stuff was going to be of use to someone else he didn't mind the money they'd earned from it. Michonne, on the other hand, was the one struggling. In theory, the garage sale made the most sense, but the reality of getting rid of their stuff was a hard pill to swallow. The exercise however, looked like a success from where she stood.

"Everything is almost gone," she noticed.

"Yeah, this was a great idea, Chonne. This definitely wasn't your typical garage sale."

Maggie observed an old, bald guy leaving with a metal detector. What could Rick possibly need a metal detector for?

"You're lucky I didn't bring my daddy's deer head. God rest his soul."

Michonne laughed at Andrea's comment, imagining a deer head among the jettisoned. The majority of the picture frames and old furniture had been sold. Costume jewelry was a hit. The ten tables grew scant as the evening dwindled. Michonne decided she would box up the few remains and drop them off to the salvation army the next day. She was certain the kids' clothes would be put to good use.

Daryl and Rosita were among the first to leave. Abe had joined the gang after his shift at the fire station. The pizza he'd brought over had been devoured by the crew in less than fifteen minutes. Everything had been pretty much packed up and loaded into the vehicles parked around the corner. It was well after dark when their friends began saying their goodbyes pair by pair. Waving them off, Rick came up to Michonne and wrapped his arm around her waist. "Looks like we can call it a day."

She leaned into him, feeling the tiring effects of being on her feet for most of the day, but still so content with being so close to her husband.

"You were right, Rick. You can't put a price on memories." She thought about her reluctance to part ways with a few of her belongings. Her sentimentalities threw her practicality out the door. Rick wasn't being ridiculous after all.

"Say it louder for those in the back."

"I know the memories are still with us, we don't need the stuff. Seeing some things go made me sad. I guess getting rid of old things means we get to make more memories, right?"

"That's right." He nuzzled her, hating that sadness had touched her heart today. "How bout we go upstairs right now and make some new ones?" Rick's hot breath on her neck made Michonne want to desperately take him up on that offer, but they had adulting to do first.

"It's your turn to do bedtime. I'm gonna give the kids a bath, then it's your shift."

Rick groaned at her denial.

"Page me when you're ready." He still found a way to be hilarious. Rick gave Michonne's butt a love tap, earning him the sound of her sweet, melodious laughter. She loved that after all these years together she and Rick were still so playful. She also loved when her plans came together, even when there was a lesson thrown in just for her.

The garage sale was a nice reminder that no matter where they lived, or what they lacked, as long as they were together they could make all kinds of memories.

Those were the kinds that couldn't be sold.