I was baffled and though I had been searching for it for a few days, I could not find it anywhere. Initially I assumed the man had thrown it out with the rubbish but now it was time to close and seal the smallest of the three packing boxes without it. It was purely of sentimental value as the set from which it was missing belonged to my mother-in-law and had been used daily throughout our marriage. My loyal, dependable husband had washed and cleaned it after every meal irrespective of who had cooked and how many had shared the meal with us.
A few days later, the boxes were in safe storage thousands of kilometers away at my sister’s home and I began the final clean before vacating the house. Stretching as far as my arm could reach into the back corner of a kitchen cupboard I felt a flat object on the bottom shelf and grabbing the broom, swept it out onto the kitchen floor. I stood there staring at the missing dinner knife and quickly realised I needed to apologize to the man for my incorrect assumption.
My dilemma now was what to do with the knife and I decided not to send it in the post across the country to be reunited with the rest of the set. Instead, I packed it in the bottom of my suitcase where it travelled internationally before spending a quiet life on the top of the bedroom cupboard for the past 18 months.
As I begin to pack the suitcase for the start of another journey, I face the same dilemma – what to do with the dinner knife and decide that it can continue to be a travelling companion. Arriving at Chiang Mai airport, I suddenly had that sinking feeling when I remembered that all luggage is scanned at security before entering the airport terminal and just as anticipated, my suitcase was taken off the conveyor belt and I was instructed by staff to open it. I would have told them the story of the wanderlust dinner knife if they had asked, but instead said nothing, obliged them and opened the case. They scuffled through all the items in the suitcase until they found the suspicious object, lovingly wrapped in delicate white tissue paper and a layer of soft fabric. It was taken behind screens to be shown to senior officers before being returned to me without a word being spoken and I was left to re-pack the suitcase and hurry to catch my flight.
Since then, it has successfully passed two more airport security checks and is currently enjoying a nomadic life as the man and I continue on our next adventure. Keep watching this space as I am sure there will be a sequel or two to “A Moving Story” .