Openers

Today I buy my first can opener. This is not the first can opener I have owned, but the first one I have purchased myself. Just out of college my mom gave me an opener that lasted for many years. It quit working when Colby was very young, and he bought me a can opener that year for Christmas. Since then Colby has bought me probably a dozen can openers. Some electric, some hand-held. All wonderful.

The problem I have with can openers is that I am a left-handed person and most can openers are made for right-handed people. So, when I use the opener backwards, or put pressure or torque in places that weren't meant to have pressure or torque, well, my can openers don't last long. That 's why it was always a safe bet when Christmas or my birthday rolled around that I needed a can opener. Colby kept me well supplied.

I haven't eaten much the past few days and it took me that long to realize that most of the food in my house was in cans, but I couldn't open the cans because the last can opener Colby gave me quit working. So today I go to the store to find something that would open a can. I hope to find some new gizmo that doesn't look or feel like a can opener but does the same job. But, apparently no such thing exists and I am back to a choice between electric or hand-held.

I look at the different makes and models and try to find one that Colby has not given me. You wouldn't think a trip to the store to buy a can opener could be an emotional experience, but it is. I begin to cry. Colby should be doing this. This should be his choice, his decision, his purchase. I blow my nose and dry my tears, then sort through the hand-helds and find one that does not look too familiar. It is stainless steel. All the ones Colby purchased for me had colored handles. It got to be a game between us to see what color the next one would be. I don't think he ever gave me one with the same colored handle.

I pay for the opener up front, carry it home, and place it on the kitchen counter. Then I realize I can't use it. Not yet. I need time to get used to the idea of a can opener that Colby has not touched. I break open a bag of carrots and have a few for dinner. The canned food will keep for another day. Or week. In the meantime I carefully wrap the old electric can opener in a towel and place it in one of the piles of Colby's stuff that I am not yet ready to get rid of. Someday I know I will have to part with it, but for now I like knowing it is still here.