Long ago in a far away income bracket I had a serious fountain pen habit.
The resulting soldiers stand tall in a glass display case on my desk, but they don't get out much anymore. They don't travel well in purses (as various ink-stained linings attest) and the opportunity for flourish is not nearly as present in a home office as it was in a "real office."
Most of my daily scratchings are now done with disposable rollerball pens. There's only one ballpoint pen I would consider using and it was so far out of my league as to be impossible. It sits in a smooth, perfectly balanced, class by itself -- one of the few ridiculously expensive items that is worth every penny.
I knew people who owned Montblanc pens. I saw other people use them. I always felt that only a large book deal or lottery score by my spouse would put one in my hand.
I never dreamed it would come in an envelope in a movie theater.
Anne and I had four kids in our combined charge at the Spiderman 2 matinee Tuesday afternoon. She handed me an envelope with a lump in it... and while the children were getting refreshments I opened a wonderful thank you card and squinted to read it by the light of the previews. There was a pen in the envelope which I assumed, in the dark theater, was a Montblanc knock off. It settled to the bottom of my purse for days.
We were on our way out to see Christophe and Anne last night when I ran the Google translation on her blog (www.journalscape.com/qwerty) and was pretty sure I read that I was now the owner of a much cherished Montblanc.
In my purse I found a pen that had another life stringing brilliant French phrases in Anne's delicate hand. A pen that had only emigrated to the U.S. last year.
When I held it in my hand I knew it was more than perfectly balanced. It was perfectly cherished.
And so was I.
Anne sent an email today wishing it will be the first of my Montblanc collection, but it will be the only.
Nothing could possibly compare.
Copyright 2004 Judi Griggs