Hi! All not sure you could say this is a poem or just a thought! Need to see if you would send this to a old friend or not. I have tried calling and texting for more than a year. We were very good friends for over 25 years. I know they are getting my messages. What would you all do. I am not a writer. I have wanted to be able to tell them about my being TG.
The Knife
I was about 12 years old and walking home from school. It was like any normal day walking home that day. This day was really different because while walking home I saw on the side of the road a very nice pocket knife. I was a little uncertain what to do. I put it in my pocket and raced home. When I arrived I went straight to my room to look at it. I had other pocket knives but not like this one. I took it out of my pocket and was so amazed by the way it looked. It had two silver blades and the sides looked like pearls. I was worried what I should do with it. When my dad came home from work I went to him and asked what I should do with it. He told me to go ahead and keep it. He told me that it was a very special knife. He said to me that I need to take very good care you it because it was worth several hundred dollars. Over the years I came to cherish that knife because it was with me every day. There were a lot of days that I relied on that knife to cut hay bales or even take out a splinter from my hand. There were lots of days that I never even took it out of my pocket. But I always knew it was there. It even helped me out of a real bad situation one day when I roped a calf from my young horse that bucked me off and drug me a very long way. I was finally able to cut the rope with my knife and set myself free. I was so happy everything worked out for me. I didn't think much about it or took it for granted it would always be there. That is until I reached into my pocket one day to cut that hay bale that I had done so many times before. It wasn't there my pocket was empty void of any knife. I thought to myself I must have left it on my night stand and thought I would come home to find it. It was a long day of work but went straight to my room thinking I would see it there but to my dismay it was not there. I then told myself I must have set it somewhere and it will show up. I looked up and down for that knife with no luck. So I dug through my draws to find another one to use. I would use it to cut those bales but it was not quite the same. Each time I would reach into my pocket and cut that string but it seemed to be never quite the same. There were times I would reach for it thinking I would pull it out and it was just not there. I realized one day reaching into my pocket for my other knife but only to find a hole. I then knew that I must have lost it in this hole in my jeans. At that moment I realized I would more than likely never to find it just like that person did so many years ago when I found it along the road.
That Knife was my Friend.
