This thread may completely bomb, but I know there are a few people on the board who enjoy writing. I thought maybe we could share some short works here.
This is something I composed today while taking a shower.
My grandfather always carried a pocket knife. An Old Timer pocket knife, to be exact. It was old, the blade was dirty and the brand name stamped on the side was worn almost smooth. He used that knife for everything, from an emergency screwdriver to cutting up worms for fishing. He was never without it. If my grandfather was dressed, that knife was in his pocket.
My grandparents gave my father an Old Timer pocket knife for Christmas when my mother and father were dating. It was exactly the same as my grandpa’s. Like my grandpa, my father carried his knife always. My dad used his knife for everything from cutting tags off new clothing to car repair. Two things my dad always had, his pocket knife and a clean handkerchief.
When my husband and I were still dating, my father gave him an Old Timer pocket knife for Christmas. I was so happy. I couldn’t have been more pleased if my father had hung up a banner that said, “Welcome to the Family.” My then-boyfriend didn’t realize it at the time, but I did. That knife meant he was in. He was accepted. He was one of us now.
It wasn’t long after that, that my husband and I got engaged. We were waiting for the right time to announce it to the family, but before we found the opportunity, tragedy struck.
My grandfather died suddenly. My grandma had asked him to do the vacuuming and my grandpa said he wasn’t feeling well, he had a headache. A few minutes later, he collapsed on the landing and died of a heart attack before paramedics arrived.
The one item I asked for was his pocket knife. It was never found, however. It wasn’t in the bag that came back from the hospital. It wasn’t in his humidor on his dresser. It wasn’t anywhere. He hadn’t mentioned losing it. It seemed to have just disappeared.
I had hoped to hand down that knife to one of my children. I was quite disappointed that it was never found. At least, I could still bestow my father’s pocket knife to one of my children. Maybe my son, or a future son-in-law.
Years later, I was visiting my father in Florida. He mentioned his side had been hurting lately and was seeing the doctor the day after I left. As it turned out, the doctor found spots on his liver and pancreas. My father declined rapidly. Within in a month he was in the hospital, quite delirious, then unconscious. He died the day the biopsy came back positive for cancer.
I asked for his pocket knife. My step-mother told me he lost it a little over a month before. It was never found, not even when she moved.
Today I saw my husband’s Old Timer knife on the ledge of the bathroom window. He doesn’t always carry it, but he does occasionally. I hadn’t seen it in a long time. It brings back so many memories to see it, it looks so like my father’s and grandfather’s knives. But now when I see it, I also feel a little pang of worry. Worry that one day my husband will come to me and say, “I’ve lost my knife,” and I know a shiver will run down my spine.
That was a good read! I hope your husband never loses his pocket knife.
It reminded me how my dad always used to have a pocket knife in his pocket, and I had one too. They were both business gifts with leather cases, very small. Mine was mainly used for peeling oranges and those pens with loose lead. I gave up carrying it around when the airline regulations changed, I felt so naked without it onboard that I decided to get used to not carrying it around all the time. My current pocket knife is a small Swiss army one (the original one's knife got bent) and it's usually in my handbag.
Kayte I very much enjoyed that. The knife understandably symbolizes a lot to you. That is a bit strange that your grandfather and your dad passed soon after their knife was lost. Maybe you should super glue it to Don.
By the way I tried to work on my writing assignment last night. It did not go well.
Hey, I think this thread is a good idea! Writing is fun.
Loved the story :)
I would share right here, but I'm incapable of writing anything short. (Maybe I need to do some exercises in short stories or something...1,000 words or less.)
Here's my writing website: Archive Page if you're interested. I just wish I could write a better blurb for Made up to Break up. I suck at blurb writing!
