His mother's tin box
John kept the tin box that belonged to his mother, Ruth, the one she used to fill with buttons, old strings and mending scraps kept "just in case." He opens it every day in the workshop for the small things: a screw that turns up right when it's needed, a button that gives something a second life. He doesn't talk about her; he uses her buttons and carries on. Keeping the small things is his quiet way of not letting anything be lost for good.







