LOVE AT FIRST WRITE

By Truth or Derrick

 

Today’s topic: losing a loved one.

 

This February will mark the anniversary of the death of one of the most — if not the most, influential pieces of desk supplies I ever owned…my blue pencil Gizmo.

 

I was reminded of this tragic event as I came across a certain dusty picture frame. As I nostalgically stared into the quiet homage — the only two actual photos of Gizmo taken before I lost her forever — I couldn’t help but find myself back on that warm summer night at Longs Drugs that we first met…

 

There I was, the kind of lad that couldn’t hold on to one pencil at a time for longer than a few days, roaming the aisles of Longs. Logic told me all I needed was a simple number two pencil, the kind that writes and erases, but the moment I spotted her, all logical impulses were erased from my brain. She is the one, I thought.

 

Her beauty was exquisite. Upon her voluptuous blue shell were written the golden words, “GIZMO 0.5 mm Japan.” Near her head was a soft, black grip. At her tail was a dark-gray cap, modestly covering her pure-white eraser. I gently shook her, listening to the rattle of the finest lead (not too thick, not too thin).

 

But even in this moment of romantic ecstasy, I was preparing myself for that moment I knew was inevitable…the moment I would lose Gizmo forever. Losing a pencil is a lot like losing a friend, but usually happens much more frequently.

 

Meanwhile, I took the best care of her I possibly could. My hand was constantly reaching in my pocket, making sure Gizmo was safe.

 

As my love for Gizmo increased, so did my paranoia that one day, she would be gone. The thought was almost unbearable. But despite my anxious expectancy, that day never came. I began to think maybe there was something different about her. That soon proved to be putting it lightly.

 

Before long, strange things started happening. I was becoming extraordinarily, undeniably lucky. I would put the pencil in an empty pocket and sometimes take her out with a dollar bill. Or perhaps I might carelessly complete my homework with the pencil, and it would be returned to me with praising teacher remarks. The unexpected delights became routine.

 

I took Gizmo with me through eighth grade. She was still with me into my freshman year. By now I was becoming rich with incredible luck and started neglecting my other friends to be with Gizmo. Then one day…

 

It happened.

 

One dreary Saturday, I reached in my pocket, and Gizmo wasn’t there. I combed the entire house screaming “Gizmo? Gizmo? Where are you??” Where was the last place I had her? A catastrophic realization overwhelmed me. The last place I was absolutely, completely positive I had been with Gizmo was the night before — at the Bear Creek homecoming game.

 

But I couldn’t believe it. All could not be lost. I could not abandon Gizmo for laziness after all she had done for me in the past. I ran to the garage and hopped on my bicycle. I pedaled as fast as I could to the campus stadium. I ran up the steps and searched until I had found and/or touched every piece of gum under the seats.

 

Sadly, I gave up. I wasn’t going to find her. I knew that Gizmo would have wanted me to move on with my life, so I got a new pencil (actually a few new pencils, as they were often lost), and I was doing relatively well. Days went by, then weeks.

 

I was sitting in French class one day, exhaling deeply and missing Gizmo. I turned my head. The angelic chorus sounded, the sun came out and my heart leapt. Sitting one seat behind me, a boy in my class, whom I had never met, was writing…with Gizmo!

 

I tried to maintain politeness, but all I could spit out was a very loud “thank you!” and I made a lunge for her. Apparently Gizmo had been sitting in this guy’s friend’s car for the last couple weeks.

 

So when I got home, I took a picture of Gizmo and wrote a list of all the wacky, wondrous adventures we had had together. I was surprised at the way this experience made me feel. After going through so much together, writing it all down with her own lead and solidifying her memory in photos was a sort of resolving final chapter in this book of eternal fondness we had written together.

 

It wasn’t long before I did lose Gizmo forever, but now I was ready. And when she left, it was a quiet, humble parting, like dying in one’s sleep. I have been fine ever since. Although…

 

Attention all readers: Have you seen my pencil? I would love to have it back. Well, if you do find it, please contact me. I feel confident she was kidnapped. Don’t think Gizmo will be lucky to anyone but me, because she won’t. She’s probably working out some crazy, complicated plot in order to find her way back to me, so just try and get in her way. You’ll have as much chance as a piece of broken lead.

 

If you’re lucky.