I’ve never been a picky person. I couldn’t ever tell the difference between 1% and 2% milk. Cheese or pepperoni- don’t matter. Water bottle brands? Forget about it. Those little differences mean nothing to me. However, there is one thing in life where the slightest difference changes everything for me. Ladies and gentlemen, these are things that I like to call pens. Great things happen in my life when I have what’s considered a “good pen.” When I have a good pen, my penmanship suddenly sky rockets in quality. I start looking for any reason to write something down on paper. I suddenly get really faithful at writing in my journal and then I start writing random letters back home to my siblings. I become extremely productive when I’ve got myself a good pen. There are three times in my life where I have specifically asked for a pen for my birthday. Yes, they are that important to me. When I get one I hold onto that thing like it’s my own baby. In the times that I don’t receive one for my birthday, I always seem to find one on the ground on campus or in a drawer at home. When those days occur it’s like a blessing from above. Something about the way the ink escapes from the pen so quickly yet so smoothly is so fascinating to me. It just feels so right! I can’t put into words the despair I feel when I lose that precious utensil. All motivation is lost and I feel like a part of my soul was torn from me. Going back to “not good pens” is a tragic day.
The picture shown above is my current treasure. She’s about four weeks old now and it’s been nothing less than pure joy. She’s running low on ink though because I gained ownership of her pretty late in her life, so I’m not sure how much longer she has. I don’t like to think about it though. I’m just trying to stay positive and enjoy the time I do get to spend with her.
Ronnie Harris 