Descriptive Essay

No more than six inches tall it sat there on my bedside table reminding me of story's that it once inspired from the content inside. When I was about five years old my grandmother had presented me with a mason jar that she had hand painted, full of all sorts of buttons each with their own personalities. At first, being the age that I was, I had been captivated by all the different colors as well as designs but it was my grandfather who made them come alive. The jar, at the time, had seemed like a pretty little toy nothing more and nothing less but, to this day it has become my utmost prized possession. There was one button in particular that demanded my undivided attention. The color as well as the unique markings, the story that brought it to life, and the fire it lit my imagination made this button more than just a mere button, it set my mind free.

From the very moment that jar was placed into my hands that button captured my attention. It was lying there in the middle of an ocean of chaos drowning, begging me to pick it up and save it. I could not let the beautiful button that had captivated me be pulled down into the abyss, I reached in and pulled it out. Its bright white edges contrasted against my dirty little fingers as the smooth texture of it felt like velvet against my skin; it fit perfectly in my hand. Its gold engraved flowers in the center, unlike its outside layer, was rough and coarse to touch, but it gave my beautiful little button a sophisticated look. As my mind began to wonder how this fancy thing took home in my little jar, I waited for my grandfather to come home from work and tell me the story of my button.

I had sat there in my bed impatiently watching the second hand on my old grandfather clock tick, tick, tick, I knew somehow that clock was mocking me, somehow it was slowing down time, I was sure of it . And then the front door opened, I could smell the strong aroma of paint and coffee fill the air, I heard his deep low

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