The Passing of The Pen

Yesterday, on the way to the Scottish Festival at Stramler Park, my son Paul and I sat at a red light waiting to turn left onto Chester. It was a beautiful day and we had our windows down to take in the breeze. Paul, being the 15 year old that he is began fidgeting with his pen while telling me about something he saw on the History Channel earlier that day. Right in the middle of his story Paul suddenly lost control of his pen and it went flying out the window.

“My pen!” Paul screamed hysterically. The next thing I knew my wonderful, bright, mature son was hanging halfway out the car window clawing the air in mock effort to reach his pen. “Paul!” I said shocked, “what are you doing?” With out answering he continued to sob (with a smile on his face) over his pen. I suggested that he jump out of the car and grab it if it meant that much to him, but he told me it was too far away.

“What’s so special about that pen?” I asked him. Just as he began to explain the light turned green and traffic began to move. I swear I am not making this up - right when he said “That is my favorite pen because…” we heard a loud crushing noise as his beloved pen was smashed beneath the wheels of a passing truck.

After a brief moment of shocked silence we both burst out into laughter. I was scarcely able to drive because I was laughing so hard. Paul had gone into the frozen faced, not breathing, no sound making laugh which is only reserved for things truly hysterical.

After finally calming down Paul was able to explain to me why that pen is his favorite. That’s when I looked at him and said, “You mean that pen WAS your favorite.”