The Journey of a Cane
Photo by David Monje on Unsplash
It was an old cane and could not remember what kind of a tree it had originally came from.
The cane recalled a tall tree though, in an ancient forest centuries ago. It had been delicately carved and transformed into a simple walking cane by a poor carpenter. It remembered the carpenter though, slightly.
The carpenter died defending his humble home as knights surrounded it and fought fiercely against their enemies.
The battle won, but the carpenter lost, a weary knight then took up the cane and used it for his injured leg as he travelled the kingdom helping people and sharing tales of the carpenter’s bravery.
Eventually, the knight dying, the cane came to the home of a wise elderly medicine woman who was known for her healing abilities.
Though she could not save the knight, she inherited the cane for herself and used it as she meandered through the trails of the thick forest in search of healing plants and herbs.
The cane was passed down to her children and grandchildren, each one of them remembering the stories she told them of the knight. One of her descendants was a blacksmith who forged a metal dragon’s head, creating a magnificent handle for the strong wooden cane that had once served this brave knight.
Generations later, the cane bore the polished sheen of countless hands upon the worn dragon’s head, simple carved marks and initials of each owner in the wood, and the wisdom of thousands of told and untold stories.
Time passed on until the cane landed in the hands of a traveling musician. He wandered from village to town singing and dancing on stages, twirling the cane, and bringing joy and laughter to hundreds of people.
The cane was adorned and decorated nightly with countless colorful ribbons. The musician carved a musical note into the piece of wood as his mark of ownership.
Many more generations passed, and the cane eventually landed in the hands of a young scholar at Harvard who found it in the dusty attic of the rented home she lived in. Fascinated by its history and intrigued by each mark, she researched its past owners and the time periods of the places it had been.
The cane became her sole companion on her journeys across the continents, from grand libraries to ancient ruins. She documented not only the cane’s history she uncovered, but all of her own travels and discoveries, ensuring the cane’s stories would never be forgotten.
Years turned into decades and centuries, and the cane passed through many more hands , young and old alike— a courageous explorer, a thoughtful poet, a poor farmer, and a compassionate doctor. Each owner adding their own mark of ownership, whether a carved initial or a painted symbol, weaving their lives into the cane’s long historical narrative.
Now, an artifact of history, the cane rests in a small museum, where it stands proud and protected in a glass case. Daily visitors marvel at its intricate carvings and wonder about the lives it touched through the years.
Though the cane no longer remembers where it came from or everywhere it has been, it still carries within it the essence of every journey, every adventure, and every soul who leaned upon its strength.
The timeless cane remains today in this glass coffin. Although alone, it is a silent witness to the passage of time, the enduring spirit of humanity, and proof that life goes on forever with or without us, the humans who think we own it.
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I hope you enjoyed my story. As we travel the country, we see old relics in museums and my writing mind wonders about the stories these items could tell. If only we really knew, huh?
(August 2024)