Scars: Part 1

Through my life I have found that scars hold infinite words. Many of these marks stay permanently with their host until after death. They remind of times past. They cannot be escaped. They are you.

Scars are reminders of the stories of your life. They are little relics that mark the day. Tiny little pieces that map out where you've been in life.

Each scar has a different story to tell. Some tell of bad times. Scary times. Times that would better be forgotten. Some scars you wish would leave.

Some scars are what is left from a good day. A day spent living in the moment. Some scars you wouldn't trade for flawless skin because it makes you smile when you are reminded of that incredible, probably reckless, day.

I have both.

The stories behind scars are infinite. There are infinite ways to mar the skin. There are infinite memories that go with a single individuals flaws.

Some are scars of repair and progress. Some are scars of destruction. I have both.

Scars can go unnoticed until later. Some you will remember the exact time and place of the injury. I have both.

My forehead: I have a few scars on my forehead.
The small pink, smooth piece of my head came from an accident on the trampoline. I was young, 8 or 9. I was jumping on the tramp with my neighbor, Geoff. In the course of jumping around, he landed, open mouthed, on me. His front tooth split my forehead and I had to get stitches. 5 of them. My parents were out of town and we had a babysitter who rushed me to the ER.
The next one on my forehead began as a fairly perfect circle. It has since reshaped into a small oblong dent. That one is from an incident involving a hot glue gun....

My chest: My chest used to be heavily scarred from a third degree burn I got in Spain. It bubbled and blistered at the time. Randomly bursting and dampening my shirts with pus. Then the peeling began. Skin fell off like paper. It has since faded and been replaced by new, unblemished skin.

My arms: My left elbow is scarred from road rash. This one is textured from the damage of the asphalt. Part of it is bumpy and greyish pink while the other part is smooth pale pink. Liza and I were riding the Vespa around the neighborhood. We went to turn around the baseball diamond in the church parking lot when we hit gravel and went down. We rode home bloody and a little stunned. I have a scar on my left hip from the same wreck.

My hands: I have a lot on my hands.
I have a white scar shaped like an "r" on the middle finger of my right hand from a lacrosse game. I decided to guard the goalie as she left her crease to clear the ball down the field. For those of you who don't know, the goalie is off limits when she is in her little circle in the goal, but once she leaves, she is fair game to check at. She came out, I went after her. She threw the ball down field as I was moving to check her stick. That finger got caught in between the two metal sticks and ripped the skin. It was just a gross hanging flap of skin until it healed into the "r" that it now is.

I have another three scars on the ring finger of my left hand. These are from a broken finger resulting in surgical pins being put in. I love and hate this scar. I hate it because it ended my high school basketball career during the one season in a long time we actually had a chance to go somewhere. I hate it because my finger is no longer straight from the break. This finger....arguably the most important finger if you ever plan on marrying is bigger and crookeder than the rest. I love this scar because during my time out I learned to be the "flag bearer" for my team. And three little pinkish white dots looks pretty rad.

The next one was on the back of my right hand. It is barely visible now. Lindsay has the exact same scar on her hand, just at a different angle. I was making banana bread and when I went to take the break out of the oven my hand grazed the scalding rack. Lindsay's scar is from the same oven rack at a different time. She scars worse than I do so hers is still very visible. When mine was still there, angry and dark pink we could line our hands up so that they matched perfectly.

Each one is unique, special. Like me.