By: Kristin Sorenson, 2009
“I believe that everything happens for a reason…” I started to type.
“No, too cliché” I thought to myself as I pressed the backspace key. “I believe in shoes because they are diverse, just like people.” “Nah,” I decided after a feeble attempt, “that’s not going to work for me either.” I once again made use of the rectangular button in the upper right-hand corner of my keyboard. “Okay,” I thought, “this is going nowhere.” I stared at the now blank page for well over a minute, and then began again. This attempt wielded nothing spectacular either. I slammed my finger on the backspace key. The result of this action produced a clean slate, a fresh start. “I can’t think of what to write about!” I chided myself. Eventually, after practically wearing out the poor plastic button, I got an idea. “I believe in the backspace key,” I confidently typed.
Writing isn’t easy for me, and I usually have to employ my backspace key and make it work full-time. Its job is to undo whatever I had done originally. It plays a crucial role in my writing process; it’s important. I believe that the backspace key is also present in my everyday life. It’s there for me whenever I may say or do something that’s wrong or out of character. It’s there when I snap at my mother after she’s told me to do some trivial chore for the umpteenth time. It’s there in my band exams when I completely flub my chromatic scale, but the director lets me do it again. It’s there when I accidentally blurt out the fact that I’m not too crazy about my friend’s new earrings. On occasions such as these, my friend the backspace key is there, in the form of an apology or a second chance. I believe that the backspace key is there when I need to do something over again, to make it right. It’s one of those simple things in life that nobody would ever think of, but it’s there, and it makes a difference. This, in the backspace key, do I believe.