There is something comforting to me when I write. My pen comes in contact with the paper and something in my brain switches over. There is that sound of the pen making that scratching noise that I miss if I don’t write daily. Then there is the smell of the ink. I don’t think I have the words to describe to you the way that ink smells, but I bet you can smell it now that you are trying to recall it. The smell of ink reminds me of Grade 3 in Mrs. Cunningham’s class, where I was determined to have a good writing day so that I could get my pen licence. I was sick of the pencil. I still hate pencil today. As Mrs. Cunningham was making her rounds and looking at everyone’s work, I knew that it was the day – Sure enough, she said I could go to the cupboard and get myself a pen. I was grinning all the way I was so happy. I still remember, opening that huge floor to ceiling cupboard that contained all the stationery in perfect order. She had the box of blue pens on the shelf that we could reach and I pulled out a shiny new pen and I held it in my hand. If I knew anything about ‘The Lord of the Rings’ at that age, I would have whispered a ‘my precious’, because that’s how it felt. It was a Bic pen. One of those yellow body ones with the blue tip and cap. I felt so happy for the rest of the day. I felt grown up. The smell of the ink stayed in my nostrils even at bed time. It’s probably why I still have a love for blue ink… In any case, I haven’t stopped writing since and my handwriting got neater and neater. People always comment about my handwriting and how surprised they are at how neat it is considering I am left handed.
Any opportunity to put pen to paper has always had a calming effect on me. My love for analogue journaling and writing will never fade. Some people bake or cook a roast to ground them – ME? It’s the smell of ink and the pen scratching against the paper.
It’s funny the little things that you can recall.
Have a happy Easter Bloggers