When the shift key came off, she felt bad. i was away. when i returned, her eyes fell as she apologized for “breaking” my computer.
she didn’t break it, of course. no need to apologize.
the key was already lost…long before she ever touched the thing.
it was broken–at the very least lame, ill–for awhile. it was the kind of thing that was obscured from our sight, however, and each and every keystroke was a round of russian roulette. in which chamber death resides is not ours to know. but it’s there. it is the only certainty.
what the final keystroke was, therefore, not the breaking. it was merely the physical dislodging. it was impetus, the catalyst, triggering the corporal transformation of the board overall. a final kiss to send the shift key off to the next place. and to propel the rest of the board and its writer toward providence–and the next story.
and, appropriately, it required her touch to nudge the thing into finality. that’s what it was. plain and simple. it was, in fact, a moment of beauty. a moment of healing.
and so the writer took gently the shift key in his hands. he held it for a moment longer, and then he put it away.
he didn’t mourn. that time had already come and gone.
instead, he turned his gaze forward. the notion of “replacement” seemed absurd–a pratfall of a thought. only a key of some form, of course, could appropriately fit this empty space. but its precise nature seemed somehow unimportant. no, that’s not true. important, but not worrysome. for he was now in blissful free-fall, operating on faith, that the safest of landings was in store for him. that the one–the perfect and right key–would be there when he touched down.
and so it was.
and it was more than a key. it was possibility in his hand. it was all things gloriously unexpected. it was more than happiness. it was more than he imagined.
and it was still forming.
he held this new key in his hand. and he cherished it, this wonder in progress, full of knowing. this new key–it was the one, the perfect fit.
so don’t frown, my darling. don’t fret. it’s a gift, this thing. this happening. it’s nothing less than wholeness. given unto the board. given unto this TRUE LIFE.