Summary

The story "The Ghost of Anna’s Grandmother" is a whimsical narrative about the enduring presence of Anna's deceased grandmother Mary, and her living grandfather Conor, as they continue to influence the lives of Anna and her brother Aaron through small, meaningful acts and the metaphorical significance of worn buttons.

Abstract

In "The Ghost of Anna’s Grandmother," the spirit of Mary, Anna's grandmother, is fondly remembered for her strawberry jam pie and her spectral visits, detected by the scent lingering in the kitchen. Mary, once a lively pancake-maker and bickering wife to Conor, now departed, leaves behind a legacy of affection, symbolized by a bracelet of worn buttons given to Anna. Conor, a practical and caring man, despite being a doctor with little patience for the supernatural, continues to look after his family, including sewing a button onto Aaron's pantaloons, reinforcing the idea that even the smallest gestures can carry deep emotional resonance. The story weaves the ethereal with the everyday, suggesting that the love of those who have passed remains tangible through the heirlooms and memories they leave behind.

Opinions

The author conveys a sense of nostalgia and continuity through the character of Mary, suggesting that the deceased remain part of our lives through memories and traditions.
Conor's character is portrayed as grounded and nurturing, emphasizing the importance of tangible acts of care, such as mending clothes, as expressions of love.
The worn buttons are a metaphor for the passage of time, the wearing down of life, and the beauty in the well-loved and used aspects of our existence.
The story reflects on the idea that the essence of our loved ones can be found in the objects they leave behind, which serve as physical connections to their legacies.
The narrative implies that even in the face of loss and the mundane challenges of life, there is beauty and joy to be found in the simple acts of living and remembering.

The Havanun Tales #21

The Ghost of Anna’s Grandmother

A story of worn buttons

The ghost of Anna’s grandmother looks like an organza dress, orange sunset.

She looks like a ray of sunshine between the lashes, a hypnotic glass mosaic of a Byzantine cathedral.

It is easy to recognize her.

She still smells of strawberry jam pie.

Anna wakes up in the morning, jumps out of bed, noses the air. If there’s strawberry jam pie molecules Brownian motion, certainly, busy in the kitchen, Anna will find the ghost of her grandmother Mary.

Mary. By the way, Anna’s grandmother has always been called Mary. Even when she wasn’t a ghost and she cooked pancakes for real and she could bicker with her husband Conor.

Conor. By the way, Anna’s grandfather is still called Conor. He’s a doctor, not a ghost, not yet. He is made of flesh and bone and probably hardwood as well. Not the type of man that comes back to repair a fence or to greet you.

Nevertheless every day invisible he takes care of Aaron and the others.

Sometimes, Anna and Conor receive a gift from Mary. Some time ago Anna received a bracelet made of buttons.

A button bracelet! And what is it for? Grandpa Conor commented. Mary, dear Mary, you continue to behave like cats. You know, to show their affection on your home entrance mat they leave captured lizards and mice.

If grandma had been there they would certainly have quarreled. Then they would make peace on the porch with pizza, the fireflies in the middle of the hedges and all lovey dovey rest.

Anna turns the bracelet in her fingers. Buttons are worn and shine with their consumption. Anna tells herself it would be nice to meet the story of each button.

Let’s go! Granfather calls her. His car is always polished, engine full of oil, speedometer hand pointing up. Conor parks just outside the city, in the middle of the grassy clearing, in front of the abandoned station.

There is Aaron with his without pedals bike. With one hand he presses the plush tiger against his forehead, with the other he holds his pantaloons.

Aaron, what are you doing? Are you crying over nonsense? A doctor knows how to tighten all the pipelines that bring the huge sea of watery and salty emotions from the stomach to the tear ducts. But the pipelines can leak.

Look what we have here! And waves Anna’s bracelet in the air. They choose a button that fits. Aaron likes a big dark one, looks like onyx.

Conor sews the button to the pantaloons. I’m a little ashamed, Aaron whispers. You don’t need shame, Conor replies, you’re an honest man.

The car runs fast on the way back.

Hanging in the sky an organza dress, orange sunset.

Mary, dear Mary. Conor greets her with honks. Anna smiles, her heart repeats an old prayer song.

There is always a suitable button. A worn button for a child’s apron, for a nurse’s uniform, for the groom’s shirt.

The car runs fast on the way back. Radio plays blues.

Summer evening is clear, so clear that you can be joyful inside, letting the arm glide out the window in the warm breeze.

Summer evening is clear, so clear which could be the dawn of eternity.

And eternity is just a long, long row of worn colorful shimmering providential buttons.