PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I always thought there was something special about that knife, my father’s black Swiss army knife with 32 functions. My father owned this knife since before I was born, he always had it with him wrapped around a belt loop with the Velcro of the leather case. It seemed like it worked for absolutely everything whether it was opening a bottle of wine at my grandma’s house, or my mother using the nail file during road trips. I remember my first fishing trip with my father, he taught me how to use every function of the knife, the sharp scissors where perfect to cut the fishing line and then remove the hook from the flounder’s mouth. The knife was also there during our camping trips, my father used the knifes fine tweezers to pull out my first splinter from my left hand while I was gathering wood for the fire. My father taught me how to use the screwdriver with the Swiss army knife, we would take turn using it while assembling the model cars for our collection. Whether it was a good day or a bad day I could always count on my father arriving from work with the Swiss army knife wrapped around his belt loop, I remember hearing the door opened and waiting for the satisfying noise of Velcro being separated, then I knew my father had arrived. He would always lay down the knife at the kitchen table beside his car keys, and every day it had what one would call “battle scars” a slight scratch or a piece of wire still stuck. I liked to imagine his adventures at work with the knife even though It probably wasn’t that exciting (cutting wires and opening mail). Funny enough one day at the airport while passing the metal detectors, I hear a loud alarm and red lights flash while my father was walking under, I look and see an airport agent inspecting my dad. He was asked to pull his shirt up and there it was, the Swiss army knife wrapped around his jeans. That was the last time we saw the knife, and I remember being extremely sad about it but oddly my dad was not. I asked him, and he said, “don’t worry, we will buy another one” and that was when I realized I always thought there was something special about that knife, but now I know it wasn’t the black Swiss army knife, it was the incredible journeys we had with it that made it special, for the memories no one can take from you. 

Oscar Ruiz