Wetwired an Austin Texas Blog

This has been an interesting weekend.

It started with my drive home, to Austin. I call Austin home because after 5 years, it had indeed become my home. I love this town, and will do my damnedest to return full-time at some point. I came into town for RenFest, but almost turned the car around when I was too tired to keep driving Friday night.

That’s where a friend (the woman of interest I’ve written about before, in fact) came into the picture. She called me, recognized I was tired, and spent over three hours talking to me on the drive into town- an act which was a returned favor of sorts, as I had spoken to her many times on trips from The OKC to her hometown.

Needless to say, I’m still damned grateful for her help.

I got into town, where I headed to Pylorns’ home. I’ve spent the last few nights here, hanging with the gang and revisiting old familiar haunts. But it was tonight- a few minutes ago, in fact- that the event prompting the title of this post occured.

I found Mr. Mike’s knife.

I’ve written in the past about Mr. Mike, a man whose effects upon my life are too numerous to mention. About ten months ago, when I moved to The OKC I believed the knife to have been stolen from my hotel room. I felt like a part of me was lost, even if it was through something so unremarkable as an inexpensive folding knife.

Tonight, I was packing for my drive back to The OKC tomorrow. I heard change jingling in my backpack’s pockets. This is a backpack I hadn’t used since moving here. I opened the pocket that I thought the change was in, and reached inside. I felt something not at all like loose change, and pulled it out.

And there it was.

The grip is black plastic, he blade a deep and basic black. The actual cutting part of the blade is silver from the sharpening of the blade, where the paint was ground off. The blade has a spring assist, to help open the knife. It is a simple Kershaw knife.

And, it belonged to one of the best men i’ve ever known and was anded to me as a reminder of him.

I’ve missed it- and to a much deeper aspect, Mr. Mike- deeply since moving. I felt like a part off me was figuratively cut off by losing that knife. Finding it again has made me feel whole, as if things are right again.

I feel whole again.

I knew coming here this weekend was the right thing. Thank you, James.

Out.