The Repair Doesn't Hold

I found the spool in the drawer,

nearly empty,

just enough thread left

to almost do the job.

The button had fallen off yesterday.

I sat down to sew it back,

determined,

like this was something I could fix,

like my hands still remembered

how to do this kind of thing.

The thread frayed at the end.

I wetted it with my mouth,

tried to thread the needle,

failed twice,

succeeded on the third attempt.

Through the button.

Under the fabric.

Through again.

The thread was thin,

almost transparent where it stretched,

and I kept thinking

about how easily it could break,

how little force it would take

to snap something this delicate.

I made my knots,

tied it off,

cut the thread short.

When I held the shirt up,

the button was hanging on

by something barely visible,

by faith,

by the temporary truce between fabric and thread

and the need for buttons

to stay fastened.

Two weeks, maybe.

Then it will come loose again.

Then I'll either fix it

or throw the shirt away.

But for now it's attached,

and I'm calling that a win,

and I'm not thinking about

how temporary this all is,

how everything eventually

comes undone.