THE KNIFE THAT REMEMBERS__PROMPT 3RD NOV

"Don't pick up that knife!" - I shouted at my wife.

We were in the kitchen. It was 2am.

Amara was sleepwalking again.

She stood in front of the kitchen counter, eyes open but empty. Her hand was reaching for the big meat knife we used for Christmas goat.

This is the third time this month. Doctor said it's stress from her new job at the school. He said "don't wake her with shouting, just gently guide her back to bed."

But this time she was holding a knife. I couldn't be gentle.

"Amara, biko, don't pick up that knife!" I whispered loudly.

She didn't answer. Her fingers touched the black handle.

I moved slowly. I held her wrist, soft. "My love, leave it. Come back to bed."

Her hand was cold. She was shaking. Then she started crying in her sleep. Real tears coming down.

She said one word - "Mama."

Her mama died last year. In the kitchen. Heart attack, while holding a knife, cutting ugu.

That's when I understood. She was not trying to hurt anyone. She was dreaming of her mama's last day. Trying to catch the knife before her mama fell.

I collected the knife myself and put it inside the drawer, locked it. Then I carried Amara like a baby back to bed.

She woke up in the morning and said "I dreamt of my mama again. She was in the kitchen."

I said "I know. I was there with you."

She hugged me and cried for long.....

Some knives are not for cutting food....Some knives carry memories. And when you see someone reaching for that kind of knife in their sleep, you don't shout at them.... You just quietly take it away and hold them.

Don't pick up that knife, my love. I will pick it for you.

image source AI