Maybe it’s my Welsh ancestry (think fairies and spirits), or maybe not. Maybe there’s a ghost in the family, or maybe not. Sometimes, I’m not sure.

Last fall, I decided to crochet a “granny go round” sweater for my daughter. It was a pretty mix of blue, gold, maroon, dark green, and tan. Usually, I knit rather than crochet so this was a fun change for me. I finished it just after Christmas and blocked it. The last step was to sew on the buttons. I bought just enough buttons for the six buttonholes.

Somewhere in the process, I had five buttons successfully sewn on, but when it came to the sixth? No button. I looked everywhere–in the chair cushions, under the chair, in the sewing basket by the chair, on the endtable, under the footstool, by the fireplace. No button.

Weeks went by. I finally gave the sweater to my daughter missing the last button. She was sweet and wore it anyway.

Then two months had passed. I came home from my exercise class one afternoon and there on the chair cushion where I usually do my handwork was the button. In plain sight. I asked my husband if he had found the button. He said, “What button?” No one else had been in the house.

I told my sister what happened. “It was the ghost,” we said.

Someday, I may share more family “ghost” stories. How does your family explain unexplainable occurrences?

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