Grandpa’s Knife – a true story

  GRANDPA’S KNIFE

 

He used the knife to spread

honey on her hot-cakes.

An unattractive tool,

with worn wooden grip,

and flat brass studs

holding the nicked blade

in place. A special tool,

placed beside her Grandpa’s plate

for every meal,

because he would use no other.

In flashes of memory

she glimpses a shiny steel blade

dripping amber drops of liquid gold,

as Grandpa spread and cut

the contents of her plate.

Honey has never tasted as sweet

as when spread with that old knife

nor hot-cakes tasted the same

as when cut with that worn blade.

 

Last week he left this world,

and wanting a token that would

remind her of him,

she asked for the knife.

Someone, unaware of what it meant,

and thinking it was useless,

threw it in a box of trash.

 

Today she searched that box

until she caught sight

of a tarnished blade.

Tomorrow, an old knife,

hot-cakes and honey,

will bring back remembered taste,

and memories of Grandpa 

 

8/30/92    Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

 

 

My husband had a butcher knife that he always used to spread butter, make sandwiches or whatever was needed. One of his granddaughter’s asked for that knife when Harold died. I hated to give it up but I let her take it. This is a photo of Harold with her third born son (named Roy Harold Wells-St. Clair) after his grandfather and great-grandfather. I miss her children. I miss my granddaughter and I even miss my husband’s knife. 

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