The Pocket Knife Christmas

Growing up, one item essential to the perfect Christmas with my family was the pocket knife. I always went in search of either my grandpa or uncle to open the impossible gifts with their trusty pocket knives. When I'd ask my grandpa, he'd always, ALWAYS ask "You don't have a pocket knife??" as if that was something every girl from the ages of 8-26 just readily carried around with her. 

After my grandpa's funeral, each of the women in the family raided his candy dish of knives by his bedside. Whereas I have a jewelry dish beside my bed that collected the odd ring, bracelet or pair of earrings I take off at the end of the day, my grandfather had a literal candy dish overflowing with an assortment of pocket knives. Big ones, small ones, brightly colored ones, dirty ones, you name it, that man had a pocket knife to go with it. After dumping out the bowl, I finally selected the one aptly named "Old Timer" which made me chuckle. I still haven't carried it around with me though, instead it sits in a coffee mug I got him one Spring Break, with one of his hankies and a few golf tees - the quintessential makings of my grandpa.

Even though last Christmas was spent between two hospitals between my uncle and grandma, the absence of the pocket knife wasn't noticed.

But now, here it is. That gaping hole of missing the old days. Missing the messy floor littered in gift wrap searching for Grandpa or Uncle B and their pocket knives to open the Barbie play house, the wire bead making kit, a box crammed with a bulky sweater, taped down so it won't explode. 

Two years ago we crammed ourselves on and around the love seat, holding photo booth props up. I adjusted and set a timer on the camera in the kitchen, standing in the sink to position it correctly on the ledge before running back and falling to the ground to make the picture, while fighting off Roxy from licking my face because she thought I was playing with her. It was one of those perfect memories that at the time seems completely normal. Now I would give anything to go back and have one more moment like that.

I only hope that Grandpa will see me open up those packages myself today, with the old timer.