HE NAMED THE CALF “BUTTONS”—BUT ONCE THE TRUCK PULLED UP, GRANDPA WOULDN’T LOOK HIM IN THE EYE

Buttons was just a calf, scrawny and off-balance, but my son Ezra quickly grew attached. Every morning, he’d bottle-feed her, and every afternoon, he’d check on her progress, proudly telling me how she was learning to follow him. She became his best friend.

But Buttons wasn’t ours. She was being raised for auction, part of a neighbor’s arrangement, and Ezra didn’t know that. Then, one day, the truck arrived to take her. Ezra’s confusion and heartbreak were obvious as he begged, “She’s mine!” but I gently explained that she wasn’t.

Ezra ran off, and I followed, finding him sitting under an oak tree, devastated. I assured him that his love for her mattered, even if we couldn’t keep her.

Grandpa, seeing Ezra’s pain, negotiated with Mr. Hargrove to give us another month with Buttons. Ezra poured his heart into those last weeks, creating unforgettable memories. When the day finally came for Buttons to leave, Ezra reluctantly said goodbye, promising to take care of her in his heart forever.

Weeks later, a package arrived from Buttons’ new owner, Clara, with a photo of her happy on the ranch. Ezra hung it above his bed. That night, he asked if Buttons remembered him, and I told him she did—love doesn’t fade with distance.

This story reminds me: love isn’t about possession; it’s about giving your heart fully, even when you know you won’t keep them forever.