The Knife

One hot summer day in 1946, there were two refugees in the air-conditioned, housewares department of Macy’s: a dawdling woman and my pregnant mother. Both were there for the cool air and, in my mother’s case, a kitchen knife. While she studied the display, the dawdler approached and offered help. She pointed to a steel-blade carving knife and declared it the best. Then, placing her hands on my mother’s belly, she announced my mother would deliver a boy. More than seven decades later, my older brother is gone but the well-worn knife is used every day. It remains the best. (100)