The Button Tin

When the tin of buttons appeared, there was joy.

The man who held the tin was my father – the game was about to begin.

He aptly hid them in our backyard. In apple trees, the swing, the see-saw, on steps, on top of fence posts, doors to the basement…

The signal came. The sequestered five year old raced out into the yard with a smile from ear to ear to find the treasures that were buttons.

I don’t remember if all were found or if my father remembered where all were hidden.

It didn’t matter much. What did matter was the joy and laughter shared by a loving father and his adoring daughter.

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