Philton: Button and Bolts

Button and Bolts

Mother’s button jar is nine inches high

on the shelf above the wood stove and

its golden oval label says Molasses

and I can even spell that bigbig word

but there’s no buttons the same colour as

those missing from my shirt (any blue for

blue don’t argue) though the big green ones are

for my brother’s Robin Hood suit when he loses

them in battle and little grey ones for my flies (to

keep your dicky bird in place) (stop calling it that) the

bright red ones would go with my beach shirt that

has many Sydney Harbour Bridges printed on it

(wow the biggest steel arch in the world can we go

there for our holidays) chipped ones for father’s

fishing jacket (we can’t afford to go to Sydney)

(ohhhhh) (you just remember what Jesus said

about the rich man trying to get into heaven) and

those shiny pearls with hooks on the back in their

own little case are her hope for a daughter (when

is she coming) (when God decides) (how will she

come) (oh you ask your father) and there’s a long

pin with a pink bulb at one end that held her hat on

her beautiful red hair that turned the heads of all

the young men in their smartly pressed suits in

Tallygaroopna’s Hall and I can’t spell that but I

know how it sounds on the night she made her

dayboo (why do you keep the pearls) (not real

pearls dear) (in the jar) (because she’s part of our

family) (but she hasn’t come yet) (one day you

will understand) and she kisses me on the forehead

and I feel warm inside and she takes a purple

pompom from the jar and there’s a needle in her

hand and her lips pucker to wet the end of the

cotton (take the cotton to the needle not the needle

to the cotton) and looking at the needle’s eye I

Father’s nutsnbolts jar is nine incheshanging down because its lid is nailedto the bottom side of a shelf over his toolshed bench and to open it you turnthe jar opposite to normal and you see Mol ses as it comes around each time

because the black ink I shouldn’t have openedleaked from the sewing machine oil-can I triedto pour it into so I could squirt it on my billycart axles to make them look really black like theunderneath of father’s ute and I climbed on the bench and put the can on the shelf amongst thebottles and tins where I thought it wouldn’t be noticed and it leaked a murky streak over the ledgeand down the middle of the golden label but fathersays since I’m so keen on getting my hands dirty Ican weed his carrots (good clean work never hurtanyone) and he says I’ll enjoy it because I’ll beable to see him attaching the new wireless aerial tothe chimney (whoopee we’re going shortwave andit comes from overseas) with these galvanisedwhich my brother said I can’t spell (yes I can sotoo) brackets he takes from the jar and it’s also got

bolts which look long enough to fix a latch on the

outhouse door since the wind blows the rope hookoff its nail and here’s a spring clip which could bescrewed to the rail above the squares of newspaperfor wiping our bums to hold the torch at night sothat no more roll into the hole and I tell him it was great fun watching the torch sink in the waterylumpy brown sludge and the beam made it shine so golden it was much better than how his molasses label ever looked and it was exciting tosee how long the torch would last and I reckon itgot to the bottom before it went out and he saysmaybe the torch shouldn’t be the only thing to have its bottom tanned but a smile is creeping uphis face and I start to giggle and he starts to chuckleand then I really laugh and he really laughs and hishand is on my shoulder as he tumbles wingnuts into

his nutsnbolts jar and at dinner father tells how I watched the torch roll across the seat into the

dunny can and my brother’s laughter shakes a Robin Hood button into his soup and even mother

giggles and the kettle guffaws boiling splats onto the stovetop and pinned to the shelf is mother’s sign

that her home is clean enough to be healthy and untidy enough to be happy and above the sign is

her button jar with the case of pearls glistening and waiting for our daughter and sister to come.

Philton