A Bottle Of Buttons

• Isabel Barton, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2015

Grandma used to say that one button could tell the story of ones life. I remember her saying this as clearly as I remember her and her sweet forgiving eyes. Death reunites you to the ones you love most or the people who irritate you but still sincerely love.
The lawyer read out the will. When someone dies you should grieve. Money can take that away from us. Instead of longing for someone to lean on we long for ownership. Money can bring us to our lowest forms, exchanging love for greed. Love can be taken as a competition. Grandma understood that. She taught me to love and live, to let my emotions be seen and heard.
I heard my name, why would anything go to me?
"Kelly Miss Jane bequeathed you a bottle of buttons" pronounced lawyer.
"Lucky you sis you'll be a billionaire with them buttons."
I didn't bother to reply to my brother’s sarcastic remark. I felt sorry for him I wish you could've experienced what I experienced with grandma. This was just an example of what money can do, destroying our friendship and love. I hope he learns there is more to life than money.
I knew exactly what I had inherited. Grandma and I use to sit down and go through each button in the bottle. They were grandpa's buttons. Grandma told me to cherish each button. I always wondered why she didn't collect her own buttons of her own shirt, but I could never ask her. I didn't want to ruin the moment. It was just too precious.
I slowly unscrewed the lid. I want to feel the way I did when I was with grandma. As I went through the bottle I came across a khaki grey button. This was my favourite button. Whenever I touched it I thought about how brave and courageous you would have to be in charge at the enemy. To be able to pull someone to safety, risk your own life to save someone else and drive on even when people around you are falling like flies. The next button I came Christ was a grandpa's dressing down. It was frayed and tattered at the edges, a bit like grandpa was starting to get before he passed away. I ran my fingers over its domed edges, it brought back unforgettable moments. Like the time the hospital called to say that he had passed away and left us in a world misery, and cries of sorrow filled our life.
Buttons connect things one piece to another. They bring things together and hold them there tightly. That's what they did for me and grandma. It's only people could be more like buttons, then my brother and I could hold each other as we grieve and stay linked even when things go wrong. Perhaps that is the real purpose of grandma's gift.