My Lucky Pen
I have a lucky pen, again. It was lost for a long while, perhaps two years. On Sunday morning I was sorely missing my lucky pen. If you’ve ever had a lucky pen, you know just how sorely you can in fact miss one. I walked into my daughter’s room for tape and thought that perhaps my lucky pen was in her bag of pens. And I’d no sooner had the thought than beheld my lucky pen, there amidst all the unlucky pens she’d acquired and left bundled together in a plastic bag, shelved in darkness on an Ikea shelf - pen Purgatory. But my lucky pen proved how lucky it was, and I resurrected my lucky pen and carried it safely to my desk in my study where it now resides.
Why is that pen lucky, you ask? Because I learned to pay attention to my life with that pen. I often don’t know what I think until I write with my lucky pen.
Had I gone another week, I was going to buy another lucky pen. Did you know you can buy lucky pens? Amazon has them. Walmart has them. The Dollar Store has them. You just have to know where to look for them. Because, after all, it’s the looking that reveals the lucky pen. The paying attention. The noticing and noting your day. That’s what lucky pens are for.