Market day

Sometimes you can get possessed by a weird and sudden urge, without being able to explain why. A while ago my friend and I were selling our stuff at a little local Fleemarket. The evening before – I had packed everything for the next day and was ready to go to bed – I decided, very last minute, to go through ALL my buttons and sort them by shape and colour. ALL meaning my giant collection of two tins filled to the rim.

There I was, sorting. Almost meditative. I found so many pretty buttons I had forgotten about, thinking of items they could brighten up. And I found so many light blue buttons, too. Light blue is not really my colour (she writes, while dressed in a white dress with light blue polka dots… sometimes exceptions are to be made). I started bundling them, the light blue buttons, sort by sort. No use for me, but ready to be sold at the market I decided.

The next day, Market Day. The sun was out, bright and hot. We had a lovely day, selling this and that. The bundled light blue buttons were waiting on a saucer to be sold. A man came up to our stall. When he saw the buttons he started to collect them, every bundle. “How much for all these buttons?” he asked. And the deal was done. Curiosity came over me. “Why do you need so many blue buttons, if I may ask?”

He told me this: back in the olden days an alcoholic would get a blue button for every year they were sober. He was a recovering alcoholic. Therefor he was covering an old jacket with blue buttons all over, as a trophy and reminder for being sober, year after year. And he touched my heart telling me this in all honesty.

Sometimes you can get possessed by a weird and sudden urge, without being able to explain why. I can explain now, why I had to sort and bundle my button-collection that evening.

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