Just In Case

I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve told the story. I’ve never written about it. I don’t even think about it that much. Except lately. The events have dislodged from my subconscious and can now be found most every day bobbing at the forefront of my random waking brain activity. And I see it when I close my eyes at night. Hanging in the darkness. Alone. I see it when I wake. I see it as I found it, thirty years ago this summer. I see it under my bed, way back by the wall, surrounded on the wooden floor by a thin layer of undisturbed dust. But clean itself. Shiny. Red. Waiting.

The Swiss Army Knife.

It was never really mine. I always knew that. And I wasn’t surprised when it left me. Not a bit. But now it’s come back. And I know why. Even if thirty years later my programed mind struggles to believe the lessons that little knife taught me. I know why.

I need to be reminded.

It was the smallest model. Not the keychain kind with the file and small blade. It was a real knife. It had scissors, a bottle opener and a blade. And of course, tweezers and a toothpick. If your a five year old boy you probably ought not be playing with knives but if you are, well, a Swiss Army Knife might be the coolest toy you could have.

I can’t tell the story here, I’m sorry. I’m not writing to tease you, only to further remind myself. This knife you see, well, it taught me the secrets of the universe. It taught me about the power we all have. Power we seem to forget as we get older. At least I think in my case I have forgotten. Even when I tell myself I haven’t its a lie because I might rememeber but I have trouble believing. I sure didn’t have any trouble believing back then, that summer thirty years ago. I just knew.

Thirty years. Wow.

It creeps in like a thief. More like an assassin. Reality. Steals your belief. Kills your dreams. Lies to you. I’ve fought hard to not become cynical and I thought I had succeeded but now I am doubting myself. Reality was whispering in my ear, telling me I was doing a good job, telling me I was okay. Everything was okay. But I fear it may have been a lie. Nobody loses the power. They just forget. And they believe the lies. The loud loud lies.

So I’m just writing this to remind myself. And you. If this wasn’t written on a computer screen (and I still had a Swiss Army Knife) then I’d cut my finger and sign it in blood. I won’t forget again.

But I can’t so I’m just gonna keep that Swiss Army Knife right where it belongs, bobbing at the forefront of my random waking brain activity. Just in case.