My Scarry Story

I’ve got scars on my legs. One of them is particularly obvious when I’m not wearing a sock on the left foot. Everytime I look at it, I instantly get beamed back to JSS3. I was 12.

That’s what scars do. They’re markers of historic moments in our lives. Precise to the very second when the event of the scars happened.

Maybe that’s why people say, in an accident everything moves in slow motion. You become keenly aware of more detail than usual.

As I was rolling the wooden disc back towards the Intro Tech workshop that day, as other students walked by without paying me any mind, as the wind whizzed by my ears and the sun burnt gently, I remember being lost in the moment.

Then the disc ran over my left foot.

The aluminium strip nailed to its side had come loose and the sharp end of the metal sliced through my shoe.

It caught the thin skin of the top of my foot and tore a deep gash on the foot.

I looked down. Thick white tissue stared back at me.

Momentary shock….

Then the inevitable deep red followed. Blood streamed out in many directions all over the foot, like zig-zagging tentacles of a monster coming alive from under my skin and grasping for life for as long as it could.

I have other scars and I can give you the backstory of each one.

The one on my ankle was from tossing pebbles with a friend. He threw one too hard and struck the ankle. Blood.

I also have three dots from an insect bite at my grandfather’s farm.

Etcetera.

There are scars we can see and those we can’t. Most times, we totally forget the physical scars are even there until someone asks us about them. That’s when we bring out the vivid stories, some of which we tell in slow motion because we can now relish them because they showed we’ve been toughened by our battles.

But mental scars are more tricky. We battle them every time. When we manage to defeat them, we most likely never want to go back to those harsh memories.

We just want to keep going forward. And that, if you ask me, is all for the best.

Hey, speaking of scars, you know who else had scars everyone keeps telling stories about? Yeah. Happy Easter.

Writer. Creative. Tinker. Human.

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