It was a cold and blustery day, and I was doing some organizing around the house. I came across a yellow tin with floral designs on it that my husband brought into our marriage. It had sewing supplies in it from before he met me, including some buttons that I suspect belonged to his mother, Georgine.
My husband's mother was a nurse, a waitress, and a fortune teller. Yes, an honest-to-goodness fortune teller, with a talent for taking people's hands into hers, and telling them their life story, and what their future might hold. She used to tell fortunes in her kitchen for money. She told my husband his own life story, including how it ends, but he won't tell ME. I don't think I want to know anyway.
I never got to meet Georgine, as she died on Friday, December the 13th (an unlucky day, apparently, at least for her), the year before I met my husband in a State College laundromat. This is some of our family history. (The woman I refer to as "my mother-in-law" in my stories is my husband's father Harry's third wife; which is to say, no relation at all to my husband.)
My husband says he knows that Georgine would have loved me. All she would have had to do is take my hands in hers and look into my eyes, and she would see the truth: the amount and depth and passion of my love for her son. She would take just one look, and know me, to the core. Yes, she would; I do not doubt it.
In separate news, while at Walmart the other day, I bought a heart-shaped red plastic tray for 9 cents. I suppose it must have been from Valentine's Day, on clearance. It was a perfect place to put all of those buttons. So it is that I've already had 9 cents of enjoyment from it! Square deal on a heart-shaped thing.
So here is the presentation of Georgine's buttons, on a heart-shaped tray, for your enjoyment. When I was playing with them, I was reminded of lyrics from a Warren Zevon song. The tune is Keep Me In Your Heart, and the line is this: "I am tied to you like the buttons on your blouse." I think of these buttons - Georgine's buttons - and I pay remembrance to her.
Georgine: But do you love him?
Me: Yes, I love him, Georgine. I love him awful.
(Moonstruck movie reference)
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