lost and found

As a writer, pens are important to me. They are NOT something to cram into a drawer or throw away.

Besides a fountain pen, I have two felt-tipped that I treasure. (I also have a set of calligraphy pens, a glass pen and a silver green- plumed ink pen. Each can be used for special notes or messages. I only have pens that are special.

However my violet felt-tip and my green-tip are the two I use the most. I've had the green felt tip for almost ten years.

As I rushed to Spanish class, I stuck the green pen in my coat pocket.  (Don't ask why my pocketbook with my violet pen was still at La Noisette.) When I arrived, the pen wasn't there but there was a hole in my pocket.

Ten years of loyalty from that pen jotting ideas, sentences, schedules, shopping lists . . . gone.

I figured after class I could look for it, but probably someone had picked it up or it had been run over.

On my walk home, I felt a stabbing pain in my calf.

My pen had not fallen on the street but to the bottom of my coat. Instead of trying to cause me pain, it was signalling me to rescue it.

Back home I worked the pen out of the lining and back to the spot which it calls home.

The pen is now back where it belongs waiting for the next story to be written.