|Lost January 27- Found February 19|
"Sometimes moving on is not so much chosen as accepted."
As I made the turn I heard it... my companion of more than twenty years was gone. Together we traversed forest and city; from an island in the Amazon to the interior of Rome's Coliseum, my Victorinox and me have always been inseparable, until about a month ago. It all began with a brake light.
There is a switch beneath our car's brake pedal that turns the brake light on and off again. That switch stuck- to the ON position. So, to keep the eternal brake light from draining the car battery, I disconnected the battery cable every night. The cable clamp is wonky (in character with the car) so the former owner added a screw to keep the clamp tight. As I was screwing the added screw in place one night (in the dark), using my trusty Victorinox, I dropped the knife... my old friend fell into the bowels of the car's engine. I had no light and needed to pick my daughter up from work so, hoping I would find the knife the next day, I began driving. As I made the turn I heard it. With a 'cling' and a 'clank' my Victorinox fell to the road. I mentally marked the spot and said, "Goodbye, old friend."
"Into each life some rain must fall," said Longfellow. Losing my knife was like walking in a hard rain on a windy morning... dampening my spirit while coldly saying, "move along!" 'It's only a knife,' I told myself. But it was more than a knife, it was a memory-keeper, a gift from my wife. Every chip and crack and dent reminded me of a place and a moment.
I was passing 'the spot' a few days ago. On a whim I pulled off the road and stopped the car. 'Maybe I will find it,' I thought. I was not hopeful, but there it was. Against the curb rested the remains of my old friend. Closure is good. I plan to work the remnant of my Victorinox into an art piece. After all, you don't throw an old friend into the trash. Who knows what it may still have to say to someone?
Now it is time for another knife.