Hymn for a fallen pen

In 2001, only a few Greek families used the internet; mine was not among them. Eminem released Lose Yourself, a song that introduced many of us to the world of hip-hop. At the same time, countless people unleashed their misogyny upon the mistress of a U.S. president. It was the year Al-Qaeda terrorists struck the United States, causing thousands of deaths. Panathinaikos did not win the Greek championship.

It was an ordinary year—the year my grandfather gave me a pen.

In 2022, almost every Greek spends hours online, yet I continue to disdain it. Eminem turned fifty and was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. At the same time, the misogynist Andrew Tate was inducted into prison. It was a year in which ISIS terrorists caused thousands of deaths around the world. Panathinaikos did not win the Greek championship.

It could have been an ordinary year, but it was the year my grandfather’s pen broke.

I loved that fallen pen. With it, I signed every document connected to what I believed were my successes. Most importantly, it kept me company when my grandfather passed away. I remember them both: the pen’s elegance and precision, and his weathered face beneath a long mustache. Two silent veterans, each trying to outlast time.

He was certainly no ordinary man living through ordinary years.

There is only one problem: I no longer remember who gave me the pen.