Buttons

No, not the kind you push. Kind of the ones you sew on garments, but even more, the kind you play with.

See, when I was a little girl, my grandmother lived with us and she sewed all my dresses. Yes, even my school uniforms because you could buy the material, a pure cotton brand called Tobralco, in a pretty small design of blue flowers on white. I'm using this precious memory in the novel I'm working on. Provisionally titled 'A Wedding in Vermont' it explores the question: why get married?

Anyhow, when our elder daughter was between nine months and three years old, our little family of three had the great privilege to live in a multi-generational household. The house itself was a split-level, on three acres, and my husband, daughter and I lived in the two-bedroomed basement flat, while my parents, brother, and maternal grandmother lived upstairs. Every morning our daughter would climb to up to see... not her grandma, although she used to apologize by calling 'I'm not coming, Grandma', but her great-grandmother.

Nannie had a wonderful imagination and children responded to her with delight. Those mornings she'd still be in bed. She'd bring out her collection of buttons and make characters out of them. For instance, four grey suit buttons on a tied thread became four naughty boys. A largeish transparent button was the ice-cream man, and so forth. No wonder our daughter was enchanted.

Actually, I don't think Nannie went to school further than Standard Six, but she had the most beautiful handwriting. I still treasure the letter she wrote to me when our youngest was born. Her writing is perfectly legible and well formed, although she was ninety at the time! I think it's a great loss, that we're not taught that particular cursive style any more.

I was reminded of all this last week when I took out my own collection of buttons to keep my 20 month old grandson amused. However, I have to confess, my imagination proved nowhere near as fertile as my grandmother's. And my handwriting? Not always legible, even to me.