You have been with me for as long as I can remember; your gentle voice has been a significant part of my growing up years. Yet surprisingly, very few things come to mind every time I think of you.
After your smile, my mind wanders to the buttons you keep formerly in one of the drawers of your aged sewing machine. You stored them in several pouches, each one filled like embroidered, golden-zippered bean bags. Some of them were heavy, some were light, but they all made the familiar sound of plastic chips hitting one another each time I moved them. Your collection of buttons was most diverse, made from various materials—wood, plastic, metal—and in different colors and designs—white, black, colored, mother of pearl, gold, silver, dull metal, gilded, two-tone, etc.
To my young mind, your collection was something a lot more. They were jewels and coins, like the ones Aladdin found in the cave where he found his lamp. They were the treasures of Ali Baba. They were the gems that I found and read about in the encyclopedia. They were the powerful crystals in my favorite anime and cartoons. Heck, at one point, they were even the Dragon Balls. They were the chips and coins that fed the arcades of my young imagination. Continue reading