The veneer on the blonde wood dresser drawer was peeling off. Opening it, knowing it would be the last time, was so hard. I’d be putting my mom’s precious memories in some box in my attic now..
I opened the drawer slowly, holding my breath. Scarves, gloves, fancy handkerchiefs-and then I saw it, her button jar. I remembered my grandma’s button jars, in the drawer of her foot pedaled sewing machine. My own button jar was rarely used. My daughter’s didn’t have one, it was passe’-out dated-no more.
Memories-mom looking for that perfect button. A tear caught up with my smile.