THE KNIFE
By
-Daniel-
©
Though we be apart,
we are but a heartbeat away.
I have come to share a Truth
upon this blessed day.
It was a thing of beauty and grace...
...adorned by a rosewood handle whose
touch gave pleasure to hold.
The blade...
hand forged from steel that in a former
existence found life as a file;
ground to perfection by the hands of a
master smithy who had learned the art of
knife making from his own Father
and stamped with his name,
now world renowned...
-BUCK-
As long as I can remember,
did this knife belong to my Father
and I still can see him sitting at the
kitchen table, honing its edge to the
sharpness of a razor.
The knife was as unique as my Father...
...neither could be mass produced,
the personality of each...
hand forged over the perfection of time.
It was a trusted tool of the outdoors,
but it came to mean so much more to me as
the years rolled by.
That old Buck came to symbolize all of the
quiet times my Dad and I spent alone, together.
He wore it on our backpacking trips into the
wilderness of Big Sur and it was there in the
Nevada mountains as I found my first perfect
arrowhead in 1964;
and for close to forty years that Buck Knife
spent time around the campfire with the two of us.
Time slips slowly through our fingers...
My Dad is now eighty years young and as much as
he would like to, he cannot go with me into the
backcountry anymore;
but that old Buck Knife, with its razor's edge,
goes with me still and as I hold it in my hands,
I remember every one of those wonderful times
spent with my Father...
...and how the hidden power of that knife helped
to carve out my own unique personality.
Thanks, Dad...
for giving me your knife
but more importantly...
Thank you
for giving to me the pleasure of your company
in the mountains that we both love.