the knife

In my kitchen drawer: A butter knife in stainless steel and more than 100 years old. But that is not all - it has a special story:

In the end of the 19th century, before studying to become a midwife, Nanny (my father's aunt) worked in Stockholm as a maid. The family was posh and the husband had a short temper. A butter knife that didn’t keep the butter especially irritated him – the butter just slid off the knife. He told Nanny he didn’t want to see that knife ever again.

But one morning she forgot and served their Sunday breakfast at the porch – with that knife for the butter. It was winter, but the porch had glassed windows and the snow reflected nicely the morning sun. The father in the house stretched for the butter reading his morning paper. The butter slid off the knife in his lap.
- Didn’t I say I never ever wanted to see this **** knife again? he screamed and threw it through the window breaking the glass.

After cleaning up the mess Nanny went out in the garden and picked up the butter knife from the snow. She kept it for herself. And the weird thing is that the knife always kept the butter after that day. Was it the impact when hitting the window? Was it the cold snow? Was it the curse?