Penmanship by WriterScrawl
© 2001 Kathy Meader, all rights reserved
Here she comes; she and her five fingers grab me, use me, and then toss me away until I'm needed again, that is if she's lucky enough to find me! If I had an ink-fill for every time she lost me, I'd be a full pen. She is a Human and her name is Kathy. Most of the time I like her, but she has her days...
I remember the day she brought me home. She took me out of the package and caressed me. She told me affectionately that I was the first pen that she cared about; she promised to buy my brothers and sisters too. And she did - but one by one, she lost them. Now I'm it; I'm the last pen left and when I run out of ink? She'll probably discard me along with all of the other items she throws away.
Last week she threw away my friend, Paper. Paper was a good friend; he often told me he liked the way my blue ink rolled smoothly on his lines. Sometimes when my ink was rolling over his back, he'd tickle my point. Oh, how hard it was not to giggle! Now he's gone; he was tossed away and called garbage.
I wonder what she wants me to write this time? My ink is starting to dry up; it won't be long before I'm discarded just like Paper. My smooth, gelled body is easy on her arthritic fingers. I've often overheard her tell other humans how much she appreciates how thick I am, in fact last week she told somebody on Ms. Telephone how comfortable I am. She must have forgotten that because when she became angry a couple of days later, I was the one who was thrown.
That's right, she, the Human, threw me at the Mr. Wall. I felt horrible about the mark I left in him, but he forgave me. Mr. Wall said he'd take care of Human later, but I told him not to hurt her. Sometimes she just doesn't know what she's doing.
I know she gets frustrated; I hear her cry at night from the pain in her legs, so if I can offer her a little comfort, even if it's the softness of my body, then I've made a difference.
Sometimes I wish I could talk in human language; I'd tell Kathy that she is valuable. I know that sometimes she is impatient; she wants so much to succeed and to be a part of life that she forgets she is life.
I don't think she is aware of how much she affects the lives of those around her. While she is gone, I often hear people discuss her. I've heard them say that when Kathy speaks her mind, the whole world knows it. Granted, she's not the quiet type, and yes, she can be rude, but at least she has an honest rudeness about her.
I'm just a pen, but I can see and hear things. I can even write things - and I often do. Little does Kathy know that those special little notes that she finds early some mornings are from me; she is under the impression that they are from one of her brothers, her mother, or a friend. I just tell her simple things, words she needs to hear. My favorite message to her is: I love you.
There are moments when she is the kindest, most gentle human I've been around and those are the times I choose to remember. If all I focus on are the bad moments, then I'm not going to like her very much either. Besides, she's admitted to me how much she likes me.
I don't think she's told another soul that she speaks to me, the Pen, and it's not like I can tell anybody. There are times I see her smile while she is sleeping, but she is unaware that the pleasant gurgling noise she often hears is me giggling. Only special humans have the ability to hear objects giggle, but there is an Object Rule and that is we can never giggle while our humans are awake.
Now she is reaching for me; she looks sad. I can tell because there is water in her eyes. Humans are odd; when they feel sad, their eyes water. She picks me up gently.
I have an unusual ability that most objects do not have. I can make my body feel very warm; the longer I am held, the warmer I get. I react to sadness; I respond with love. My love is the warmth of my body whenever a Human holds me for comfort. Today, Kathy needs comfort.
She holds me for along time. At one point she decides to write something, but that's when my ink dries up. My inkwell sinks. Will she throw me away? Does she know that I love her and that I can make her feel better?
She sets me down on the desk, but then she picks me up again. "I won't throw you away," she whispers. "For some reason, you make me feel good inside."
I grow warmer; she holds me closer. Eventually, she flops down on her bed, but she doesn't let me go. Her eyes water for a long time. It saddens me that all I can do is just stay warm for her.
During the night, I am blessed with a new power. I am given special ink, but I can only use it while she is sleeping. I ease out of her hands to write: I still love you. Then I slip back into her hands.
When she wakes up, she sees my note and smiles. She glances at me. "Are you behind this?" She shakes her head. "Of course not, you're just a pen." She pauses as she picks me up. "However, you are the most lovable pen I've ever had. I am going to keep you."
I can't smile, but I am happy when she puts me in Treasure Cup; that's the place where she puts her favorite items. I know tonight when she is sleeping soundly, I will leave her another love note.
Thank you, Kathy, for keeping me.
Pen
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