Grandmother's porch Visit and the mysterious Blue button

"I was at my aunt's old house, the one with the creaky screen door that used to slam shut every time the wind caught it, trying to find my car keys inside a breadbox full of dried lavender. Out of nowhere, I looked out toward the backyard and my grandma was just sitting there on the wicker bench, wearing that faded floral cardigan she always wore on chilly afternoons. She died four years ago, but in the dream it wasn't a shock or a miracle-it was just like she'd stepped out for a second and walked back in. I went outside and sat right next to her, and the air smelled like her hand lotion and old paper. I reached out and put my hand over hers, and her skin felt so warm and real, with those soft, blue veins on the back of her wrist. I wanted to tell her about my new job and how much I missed her, but my throat felt tight and heavy, like it was lined with velvet, and no real words would come out. She just smiled at me, really softly, and handed me a small plastic button, though I had no idea what it was supposed to go to. Then the porch faded away and I was standing alone in a crowded grocery store checkout line, holding this tiny blue button in my palm while people pushed past my cart. I realized she was gone again and this overwhelming, hollow ache settled right behind my ribs. I woke up with tears already wet on my cheeks, staring at the window blinds while the morning light came through, just wishing I could have stayed on that porch for five more minutes."