Black Pen or Blue Pen? by Fabiola Mayout
I will like to start by saying "this is not another poem." This is a short story.
Category: Non-fiction
I recently reconnected with someone I was not aware considered me a real friend: a sister by choice. To have consanguineous link by blood with someone is awesome, but to have a consanguineous link by choice will save your life. Note also that you can have a consanguineous link with someone both by blood and by choice. The point I am trying to make is that: A consanguineous link must be by choice for it to remain stable, and it's stability is relative to and through time. Humans are malleable and ductile. That is humans can change. The Almighty God is everlasting and is one entity or being who remains stable to and through time.
My brother by choice told me a story about me when we were kids. I don't recall the actions itself, but I recall the sentiments and emotions behind each action. So here I am narrating the story the way I remember him telling me:
"When we were kids, there were many a time where I had to ask for a pen. Most of the time, no one in class had an extra pen to spare. You always had lots of pens to spare. You had a big pencil case with lots of black pens and few blue pens. Whenever I asked for a pen in class, you'll say: 'Look at this guy who never has a pen. Here is my pen, take it, but on the condition that you bring it back to me with the cap intact and not chewed, the end intact and not chewed, and the tubing still clear and visible with no breakage. I don't care if the ink run out. I just want my pen back intact.' One time, I came to return the pen with no cap. You cried all your heart out. When I apologized, you cried harder. I was caned by the teacher for that. Even after that, I came back to apologize. You did not say anything. But you stopped crying. I said I was going to replace the pen, but you still did not say anything. I never replaced the pen. Despite that, you still borrowed me your pen when I needed it. From that day onward, I knew you were my sister by choice."
I laughed when I listened to this story about me. At the time, I found it really funny and I still do, but I have had time to meditate on it and here is my reply:
"I don't recall the actions, but I remember the feelings and sentiments behind each action and emotion. I remember my pencil case. It was filled with 99% black pens and 1% blue pens. I did not care about the blue pens except if there was one I really liked. Even at that, the blue pens were always expendable. Remembering my black pens, I remember I loved, cared, and cherished each one of them because they all had a story and value attached to them. Losing one was like going to a funeral. If you had bought me a new black pen, it'll not replace the lost one, but it'll be a new story to add to my collection. No matter how much I liked the blue pens, they were expendable. The black pens were never expendable. So, I am still waiting for my black pen 😄."
I thank you so much for sharing this story about me with me. It made me learn a lot about myself in this periods of uncertainty where I am still learning to establish my identity. I am sharing this story in the hopes that it'll inspire at least one person. We all have blue pens and black pens in our lives. We know ourselves enough to know who they are. If someone is a blue pen in your life, let them know. If they stay, they may become a black pen. It's up to them. Either way, you lose nothing surrounding yourself with people who value you for who you are.
Morale of the story: Only surround yourself with brothers and sisters by choice.
