My Silver Love has Been Lost

It’s gone, this time for good I fear. I’ve searched everywhere, and it’s just . . . gone.

It may seem a little silly to get weepy-eyed emotional over something so many may see as nothing more than a throw away object to begin with, but to me, it was more than that; it was a mighty weapon in my personal arsenal, serving as both shield and sword; confidant and companion.

It served me well, beautifully well.

(View original – June 15, 2014)

imageMy favorite pen fits perfectly in my hand. Sleek silver shell, slightly cold at first until warmed by the words it will ink to a page. It has substance, not too heavy, not too light. It knows everything there is to know about me, it has written of my innermost thoughts and wishes and dreams. It’s shared in my heartache and rejoiced in my joy. With my pen in hand we waltz across the page, dancing with words to music no one else can hear.

It didn’t start out as my pen, it belonged to another, who, I have no idea. How I came to have it, or how it came to have me, I can’t recall. One day it was just mine, it became an extension of my soul. When I first touched it to a blank page, I watched the dark, black ink seeping into the stark white paper and I saw pure and perfect beauty. Never has a pen touched the page so softly, leaving such a smooth trail of elegance wherever it goes.

My children often try to take it; my husband seeks to steal it away from me. My perfect pen is wanted by all. I carry it with me wherever I go. I’m not the type to lie, but if someone asks if I have a pen they can borrow the only answer there can be is no. It’s not really a lie because my pen is so much more than just a pen; It’s my partner, my confidant and my friend.

I’ve used many others, but this one has something they did not, I know not what it is, but I feel it when I hold it in my hand. Some may not understand, I don’t quite understand it myself, I simply know it is a special pen. I wonder what hands have held it before. I wonder if they knew what a treasure they held. I wonder if they search for it still.

I hope to keep it always; I doubt I could ever find another good enough to take its place. Is it odd to hold such attachment to an ordinary object, one disposable to most, irreplaceable to me? My pen is my pen; I’ll care for and keep it as long as I can. It has many more words to put on a page.

Crystal R. Cook

10 thoughts on “My Silver Love has Been Lost

  1. You have such a vivid imagination and this was a great post.

    I have a talking clock that I’ve owned since 1985, yea, really, for that long and I know I will be very sad when I am unable to track the passage of time with this simple square box with just one button on top and three little buttons on the bottom, one to set the alarm, one to set the timer, and the other to change the time the two days of the year that we all hate.

    No fancy menus, no radio, no cd player, just a small square. If you’d like to look it up because you’re curious, I believe it’s called the box clock II. My sister got it for me as a Christmas gift from Radio Shack.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Is there some strange connection between writer’s and writing instruments? I love pens and for some reason – as fast as I buy them my kids either break them (budding scientists hoping to discover how they work) or loss them. I am continually looking longingly at poems at every store I go to. I think it’s strange. I also am obsessed with journals or notebooks.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. It is not odd at all. Our writing instruments are precious. It is hard to get inspired with a scratchy pen, or one that’s too inky…I’m still looking for the perfect pen myself, always trying different models, always coming close but not quite there yet…I totally get it!!!

    Liked by 1 person

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