Ticonderoga Number 2 Pencil

When I travel, I always take WAY too many writing implements. Except when I went to Iceland. I had one pen that bled ink through the page and a Ticonderoga number 2 Pencil. Sharpened just right.

I love these pencils. Maybe it’s because it’s the staple of school supplies. Or that it was The Pencil for taking all those scantron tests in school. Or maybe it’s because I have school-age children and we buy 96 of these pencils every August so I am inundated with Ticonderoga number 2 pencils.

But I have one less in my collection right now and I know exactly where it is. In a pencil jar in Iceland on a shelf. Normally I would not give one damn about that pencil, except leaving it at that Airbnb left me with that runny pen and a half-full journal with ink stains.

I’m the kind of weird that wonders what that pencil’s new life is like, and if I could make a movie with it as the main character, I would. The Journey of a Pencil. See it at school on my kid’s desk. Carelessly jammed  in backpacks. Forming English in a journal, Icelandic as it scribbles a note. Maybe another language from some other lucky guest. But no one really giving that pencil much attention because it’s just another tool for the greater gift that is communication. Eventually it’s sharpened down to its final nub, the eraser long-gone. It’s retired ti a bin somewhere, it’s perfection long forgotten. Or maybe it’s ends up in another backpack, on another continent, traveling the world with its new companion.

Maybe the dog ate it.

But in the meantime here I sit, staring out at a steamy Ohio morning wondering what adventures are in store for my number 2 Ticonderoga pencil, living it’s best life.