Tales of a Scar

http://www.five-words.com.au

I was vaccinated today.  Every time I get vaccines I tell them that yes, I had the chicken pox when I was a kid and I don’t need the varicella shot.  They write it in my chart but continue to ask.  It’s true, I did have the disease.  I have the scars to prove it.

Chicken pock indentions remain on the ridge of my nose and on my forehead.  The marks on our bodies are reminders of our past.  Even if we don’t notice them every day, these marks have left us changed; proof that we survived, we tried new things, we made decisions (good and bad), we jumped, and we struggled – we lived.

This scar on my lower lip most people mistake for a freckle.  I was probably four or so when I decided I wanted to shave my lips like I had seen my dad do.  I remember locking the bathroom door, looking in the mirror, and then crying in the corner with toilet paper pressed to my face hoping the parents wouldn’t notice that I did something bad. They did notice, but I’m pretty sure they let the punishment be the natural consequence of my actions – this purple scar.

The white scar on my left thigh is the result of a rusty spring flying off of the trampoline we bounced on in the back yard.  I jumped on it for years after that.  Scars on my chin and head and pinky tell similar tales of play.

You can still see the scratches on my hands and arms that frightened cats left there when I would hug  them as a tot who didn’t understand why they didn’t love me as much as I loved them.

The peeling skin on my left forefinger tells of my recent baking expeditions.

The lines beginning to become permanent on my forehead are from the years of cynicism and skepticism that I can’t seem to escape.  

The parentheses framing my mouth are proof that I do have emotions - even if they are not always evident to you.  If you look, you’ll see that you’ve made me smile infinitely, that I’ve been sad and angry, that I’ve laughed and been blissfully and painfully tired.

Yes, our bodies are reminders that we’ve lived.  I hear that this truth becomes stronger as we continue to live and love and do (read: as we age).  

Thanks for letting me tell you my stories from time to time.