Letter to Kitchen Knife

Good Morning, dearest.

And surely, you didn't think you wouldn't receive one? Of certain things -- gathering dust or shining new, timelessly classic, crazily quirky or really blunt -- the sharp edge bit that makes me, me, is you. Earlier, I believed and accredited the onions to be so, kilos of chopping relieving me from many a situation -- whether embarrassing, or in an attempt to distance, or, to shed a private tear or two, unquestioningly. With age, however, it dawned that it was not the onions, rather it was the pleasure of chopping that came off you.

K (oh, we share the same initial for a name, how exciting!), I have to tell you, this is my third sitting down with your letter. Somehow, thinking of writing to you feels like a very geometrical, structured, designed compulsion, like the many slices, dices, rounds of chopping that have over the years found perfection. Come to think of it, my life has been quite like yours, at least how you are placed in my kitchen. The earliest memory of my identity was someone with a sharp tongue. I rather replace this word with verbosity now. And sad too, how you are only used as a sharp object. I cannot fathom why users fail to see you as this wonderful tool to ease out and beautify the things you touch. In fact that is also another thing I love about you. Touch. I adore the way you cuddle up to my palm, one with my soul, as if we are similar in our spirit. The touch of purpose that is invisible to the others.

Just to reduce you to your correct adjective of 'sharp' object is so wrong. You are so many possibilities, unexplored. People either do not exercise, or (I believe) do not even know how to exercise. You shape, you size, you simplify. How ethereal! And though, it is a general notion that you subtract, you are actually all about addition -- whether in dimension, or appearance. You add to a commonplace vegetable or a fruit, or dead meat its very approach and appeal.

I thank you profusely for allowing me to take care of you, and I particularly enjoy catching you blush when I know just when to dry wipe you instead of washing you unceremoniously. Let me let out a secret now. It is me too who enjoys this process of me-blushing you-blushing with you. You think I do not notice how you head up on a given day, and not hand-up, slightly, to catch my attention so as to use you? I do. I love it how you want me to complete you. I hear you, and though sometimes you hurt me too, it is only human that such tension exists.

Your friends and compatriots in other households are carelessly handled and more than you, I am glad you belong and are with me. I am a good friend. Thank you for being one of those rare ones who lets me feel and believe in it. And hey, do flaunt it with family that often we sing to each other! I know you want to.

PS: I hope you like the new cloth assigned to clean you. I took special attention to find one suited to the season.

Severe-ly yours,
K.