Buttons threaded with memories

Once full of mum's favourite pickles, the half-gallon jar with the red lid now catches the afternoon sun on my basement bookcase.

It chronicles a lifetime of memories: the pewter-coloured buttons from grandpa's jacket, the lime-green flower-shaped ones from mum's Easter dress and the imitation-pearl shank buttons from my first satin blouse.

Colourful collection

Over the years, mum and grandma snipped hundreds of buttons from outgrown and worn-out clothes and stored them in the safety of the wide-mouth container.

I inherited the family button jar and over time, have added my own colours, shapes and keepsakes.

As a child, I would watch mum pour the stockpile into a large, flat pan. Together we would sort through the collection to find the perfect match to replace a lost button from a row on dad's chambray shirt. Mum helped me practise my counting and colours while we refilled the jar.

In my teen years, I began sewing and the jar full of buttons became my buried treasure.

Mum opened the lid and a slight whiff of vinegar caught my nose as I poured them into the pan. We would sort through them and find just the right colour and size.

We would see who could remember the original source of the buttons.

Years later, mum presented me with her jar full of memories and I relinquished my spot next to mum to my young daughter, Dawn, and the two of them sifted through the buttons to find the right ones for the blouse I had made for mum.

“This one's from your mother's favourite red dress,'' she told Dawn as she held up a gold button with a flower embossed on top. They searched for more reminders of my childhood fashions and held them up for me to see.

I listened as Dawn practised counting and learnt the different colours her grandma pointed out as they carefully refilled the jar.

Emotional connect

Today, mum has passed away and Dawn lives several states away. But I still dip into my heirloom menagerie for sewing.

One evening, after watching me sift through a pan of buttons, my husband gave me a plastic box with several compartments.

“I thought this might make it easier next time you needed a button,'' he said.

“You could separate them by colours into the sections and not have to keep them all mixed up in that jar.''

“Thanks,'' I said, “but I would be breaking up the family.''