We Love Our Scars
I have a scar on my left wrist. It is the shape of a scorpion. I acquired this when I was only about four years old and my favorite grandmother came for a visit. When I heard her Ford LTD rumble into the gravel driveway, I rocketed through the house to greet her. With the front door wide open and I slammed into our all-glass storm door at full speed. Children cannot be bothered with door latches and rushing out of the storm door was common when I was small. Ironically, the following year (1977) the government would require safety glass on doors such as these. But that would be too late for me and my little scorpion-shaped keloid scar.
It was a fascinating thing for me for many years. All through my childhood and even my young adult, I was very aware of it. Now after half-a century, I rarely think of it at all. In fact, I look at it now and realized it's been several years since I even took the time to visually inspect it. But it's there, as are the memories of the moment. And the emotion. Elation at one of my favorite people in the world followed immediately with blood and tears.
That is a pattern I think we all know: Elation and love followed by blood and tears. If not physically, then for certain emotionally. This is an important point for those of you who are suffering with fresh wounds or new scars.
You will carry these with you all your days. But in time, many months, years or decades from now, they will go from active components of your psyche from which you think you will never recover, to dusty memories that require active effort to recall. That is both comforting and sad simultaneously.
Perhaps this injury is from a person or experience you cherish deeply in your soul. Something you do not wish to relegate to the rag pile of recollection. Indeed, it may feel like a crime against memory to forget this love or experience. But, my friend, that is the way of things. This is how you heal. Some people, some moments as glorious as they may be, just are not made to exist in perpetuity.
Put your hand upon the best, remember the battle. Do not do it again.
At least you have the scars.
Thanks for reading and sharing my beautiful lie.
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