A grandmother is a mother who has a second chance

Friday, July 11, 2008

Hey, buddy, where did you come from?

I was sitting outside reading this afternoon when I saw a small scar on my inner forearm. I've seen it before, but for some reason today it made me stop and think. Where did it come from? It looks like a little slice - I'm sure it would have hurt. But I have no idea what it's from.

Most of my other scars are recognizable. There's the one on my other arm from when I was in high school home ec class and we were making caramel corn. Some of the hot caramel syrup got on my arm, burned the skin, and then stuck there. It finally came off, but took some skin with it. And my grade. Think I got a D that day.

There's one above my elbow on the right arm. That one is from the day I moved a glass display case, the glass broke, and for some reason I bent over and managed to slightly impale my arm on the glass! Very wise. It healed okay without stitches, but there is a scar.

Oh, and on my left knee is a permanently purple spot from falling down in San Francisco. Walking down a hilly street, bad shoes, wet pavement - splat. Ruined a good pair of nylons that night, too. Plus, I was on a date! Surprisingly he did ask me out again. But the scar has lasted much longer than the guy (whose name I don't even remember!).

My favorite scar is the one on my forehead. Got it when I was 10. My family, my aunt and uncle, and a neighbor family were on a road trip to Tucson the summer before we moved there. My cousin, Ken, and my friend, Cecelia, and I all went to the wash (in Tucson washes don't have water in them - go figure) and decided it would be great fun to throw rocks in. Well, one of those rocks managed to hit another rock and bounce out of the wash right into my forehead. I still think my cousin threw it intentionally, but to this day he denies it. Anyway, I was terrified of getting stitches. So the doctor told me no stitches, just sutures. I wasn't too bright at 10.

All of these scars have stories. I don't have a lot of scars - for two main reasons. One, I'm totally non-athletic. Too, I'm a coward, don't like pain, and just don't do things that may hurt me! Yup, a total wimp and proud of it!

The little slit I found today has no story. Nada. Hopefully it happened while I was doing something interesting.

That's all. Now I have to go cook diner.


namaste said...

hmmmm.... now you have me thinking of my scars. i must remember to write them down. i have three. two my own carelessness and one inflicted from someone else. you are so smart to record everything! it all matters!



ira said...

I read your post and sat in this unusual posture sprawled on the groud trying to catch a glimpse of all my scares!!! :)

Desert Diva said...

My best "scar" is on my face between my nose and upper lip. One of my five brothers was "bullying" me and pushed my face into the sidewalk. The odd thing is that I can't remember which brother "did the deed."


I have a scar below my big toe. When I was 8 years old, I was riding my bike and hanging on to a paper sack full of empty glass coke bottles. I was anxious to return them for a refund to buy candy. I lost control of my bike at an intersection and the bottles broke and I landed on top of them. I had a huge piece of glass sticking out of my toe...