Last night I think I lost a close friend of 25 years—my Swiss Army Knife. I think it fell off my belt during C’s football practice. We went back to look for it but found no sign.

I bought the knife for myself during my second year of university in 1982. I’ve carried it almost every day since then. It makes me sad to think about it but in a way it was inevitable: carry something for long enough and one day you’ll misplace it. In fact I was thinking that just a few days ago while I was oiling the hinges but I couldn’t see the point of putting it away safely in a drawer. A pen knife lives to be used after all.

Interestingly, I have photos of almost everything in my life, important or unimportant, but not one of my Victorinox pen knife. Farewell, old friend.