Enough Pens for Everyone

We were always running out of pens. There’s a drawer in our kitchen table where we kept them for making notes, writing shopping list, filling out checks. One day there’d be three pens in the drawer and we’d be fine. Three’s a bounty since you only need one at a time. But then a few days later you’d open the drawer and there’d only be two in there, and then a week later one, and a week after that none.

I couldn’t figure out where they went. They weren’t on the counter or the piano or the mantle; they weren’t on the nightstand or our bureau. They were full of ink and perfectly serviceable and now they were just gone, disappeared into some domestic Bermuda Triangle. The sheer illogicality of it irritated me, made me stubborn about replacing them. They had to be somewhere in the house; surely they’d turn up. They never did. Eventually I’d buy a few new pens to fill the drawer, but in a month or two, the drawer would be empty again.

I always kept one in my office. I was protective of it. If the drawer was empty and I needed to make a shopping list, I’d be sure to return it to my desk as soon as I was done. If someone else needed one, I wouldn’t offer them my office pen. Having used it they might mistake it for their own and then my office would be pen-less. If someone found mine and asked to borrow it, I’d say, “Yes, but put it back when you’re done.” I felt small being so possessive, but I had been burned a few too many times.

Then one day I was at the store picking up some large, book-sized envelopes when I saw it – the pack of 20 Bic pens. I’d never bought more than three or four at a time because that was plenty, because we were just a little family, because one mustn’t be excessive. I plucked it from the rack and turned it over in my hands. I had never bought that many pens at one time in my life; it’s just not something a guy like me did. Until then. I dropped it in my basket, half expecting some alarm to go off in the store when an individual made an institution-sized purchase.

The strange thing is, now that the little holder in my office is fully-stocked, now that there is still a squad of pens in the open pack waiting like soldiers in the barracks for their call to duty, the drawer is always full. I can’t remember the last time I’d opened it and shut it again in frustration. Maybe I don’t notice when I have to replace them as doing isn’t traumatic, or maybe it’s because I’m happy to take one from my holder if anyone needs it. Or maybe the old pens have crept back from the Bermuda Triangle while we were sleeping, drawn to live again in a friendly world where there’s always enough.

If you like the ideas and perspectives expressed here, feel free to contact me about individual coaching and group workshops.

Fearless Writing: How to Create Boldly and Write With Confidence.
You can find William at: williamkenower.com