Buttons and Buttons

Have you ever, as a child, found something precious but by making it your own, turned it into something completely and utterly useless? Well, I once I strung together a necklace; a collection of buttons of different sizes and colors. I found them inside the dusty cupboard beneath our old black metal sewing machine. Through the years I had collected these loose buttons that had fallen off of Grandma’s thick winter jacket, mom’s white blouse and Dad’s knitted vest. There were a couple of silver plated ones with beautifully carved engravings, some others that smelled like old Chinese medicine cabinets and some others that were so covered in rust, that I couldn't even make out what sort of fashion they may have once displayed. There are a bunch of pink pastel buttons on there, please excuse them, they’re just a foolish mix up. (Those were added on last minute to finish the job). Those Crayola-dyed colors, a million shades of pinks and reds-- like flowers today. Those luxury bouquets sitting as centerpieces, their petals flaunt out at you and their chests puff out in daunting ways. Unnatural. They lounge around in homes. They witness the crying of young fellows and friends of friends. They sit beside my grandfather and they loom quietly over his grey patched on makeup, his stiff suit and folded limp arms, their scents almost enough to cover the lifeless room.

He looked so different, like one of those famous figures you see at the wax museum, each characteristic, each wrinkle carefully constructed to mirror the man who had tucked you in to bed just last week. I remember staring down at him, holding my breath as if my breathing might wake him from his peace. I looked at his eyes, small slits like paper cuts; and I couldn’t help but to notice how his eyebrows looked bushier than ever; like those thick black tent caterpillars you can find crawling around the driveway in the spring time. It's unsettling to see them all over the place but not to panic says Debbie Hadley in her About's Guide to Insects, they complete their life cycles by the summer time.

I strung those pink buttons on after the last of my button collection was through. No more vintage buttons. It was finished and here I had created something my hands  could touch and I could hold onto forever; I could have as mine. And today, I don't even wear this as an accessory. To be honest, I don't even know where I last put it. This long dangling necklace of buttons and buttons.