For many, many years I had a black Fischer space pen. The black matt was chipped - a respectable sign of its being well utilized over so many years.
Last February, I lost it.
I replaced it a few weeks later. New black matt finish.
Last weekend, we were sitting outside in West Stockbridge, Massachusetts having an iced coffee. I heard the clink of the pen hitting beneath - having escaped from my pocket. I looked down and saw the spaces between the planks of the wooden deck. No pen.
With the help of the flashlight of my cell phone, I saw the pen about a foot down in the dirt.
Hoping against hope, I visualized securing the pen with a magnetic device. The hardware store across the street would surely provide the necessary components for the retrieval. I assembled a combination of string and magnets, and went fishing through the gaps in the deck planking. After several attempts, I came to the realization that the pen was not of a metal conducive to the magnet.
We questioned the establishment responsible for the iced coffee and deck as to whether there was any other suggestion for reunification with my pen. We were advised that the pen under the deck was now in the company of credit cards and a diamond ring. RIP.
Losing this pen is a little different from losing other things. I know exactly where it is. But I can’t get it. It’s gone. As I drove away I felt that I was leaving it behind.
I’ll miss that little pen. I like having it in my pocket with a small notebook. There will most likely be a third.