Our fragments of Grandma are ruined, mostly. The comb misses its teeth, the straight pins are rusted. The lace yellow, beyond bleach; china chipped, beyond glue; sweater frayed, beyond darning; beads loose, beyond stringing; books grey, beyond dusting.
As if the violent storm of years tumbled the leftovers to, fro, in winds and waters, leaving them wrecked and broken, swept gracelessly back into the closets and drawers of a very old white cottage by a very old lake.
Alone of a lifetime's treasure, the buttons are whole, fine, perfected in their lovely utility, their softly crowding, clicking handfuls. Even the herring jar says: now I am beautiful!
[photo of a button jar found in my grandma's country house; for more writing on a theme, visit Theme Thursday]
Wonderful.
ReplyDelete:¬)
xxx
i wish i had saved a jar or two! it might have soften my memories. this was lovely! xoxoxox
ReplyDeletenice way to express the condition of things past.
ReplyDeleteWow...your words brought long-forgotten nostalgic images to mind of my great grandmother. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteOoh, what a fabulous find... country memories shared through the years, passed on in appreciation of their history.
ReplyDeleteI married into a large jar of buttons which is a bit creepy but so far have resisted jettisoning them.
ReplyDeleteAh, just how easy one finds their true calling when, for so long, they began to actually believe they were becoming deaf.
ReplyDelete... yes.
ReplyDeleteI love old buttons ... reminds me of my grandmother's stash of them ... wish I knew where they were! Thank you for the memories!
ReplyDeleteI love old buttons ... reminds me of my grandmother's stash of them ... wish I knew where they were! Thank you for the memories!
ReplyDeleteSo lovely, Leah. Your writing is beautiful and jarring at the same time, amazing. I have been following your blog "secretly" and finally figured out how to log on as a follower. A bit slow technologically, but I get there. Late at night I remember, unwillingly, your true ghost story, and get the creepy crawlies all over. And then if my husband isn't home I leave the hall light on when I go to bed, like I'm 8 yrs old : ).
ReplyDeleteButtons, buttons, who got the button?
ReplyDeleteButtons here, buttons there, buttons everywhere.
That is all I can remember of the old nursery rhyme, but I can remember that we used to sing it in grade school.
One can never have too many spare buttons. But that is funny in that once an item of clothing loses a button, I just quit wearing it. Although I have been known to put a tiny safety pin in place of the button. Geez, I am so bad at sewing. It seems to be one thing that I totally cannot do.
God bless.
"their softly crowding"
ReplyDeleteand in that jar,
oh man, it's a beautiful thing.
I have a stash of buttons in a ziploc bag. Your post makes me think I should put them in something more special, and I do have a small collection of jars.