around the world

Grandma taught me that sewing thread is strong. We'd sit on the floor of the sewing room and watch her foot work the pedal of the sewing machine, bobbing up and down, up and down, waiting for a pair of shorts, or a summer skirt, or a bag to carry our music books to and from lessons. Sister and I would thread a needle, dip our hands into a mason jar of buttons, and choose the largest one of the bunch for the beginning. Making one long button train, we'd only stop when the thread was oh-my-heck-up-to-its-neck in buttons. Then we'd carry the caterpillar-like band of button brothers over to Grandma. She would tie a strong knot on the end. Button chain stuffed into a pocket, we'd go on with our playing, usually throwing Grandma's homemade bean bags into baskets until our summer sewing projects were ready for wearing.
* * *
It was the last walk for a long, long time. The conversation jumped from here to there as we interrupted each other, no common thread to our thoughts, except that we know one another inside and out. Frontways. Backways. Sideways.

I tried not to think of tomorrow as we stepped to the sounds of summer, ponytails and swishy skirts blowing in the wind. Just as the street began to slope, I stopped. Stopped walking. Stopped listening. I wished Time would follow suit. My thoughts trailed off into uncertainty. I got over the initial shock of the thought of not being together. Of here and there and this place and that place and before I realized, we were almost home. We sat on the grass and laughed as if the next night we'd be walking the same path of pavement, past the same lantern-lit porches.
* * *
When the sewing needle stopped its up and down, we'd take our button garlands over to Grandma. She would cut the thread over the mason jar. Leaping free, they would all fall into the jar, like sand into an hour glass, filling up where time had left an emptiness. They were home.
* * *
Now we each walk different streets, separated by time zones and cultures and climates. The one common thread that binds us is home, a thread that now stretches around the world, intrinsically connecting us back to our beginning.