A Scar to Remind Me

When I was a child, my mother had once taken me and my sister along with her when she went car shopping. I, a kid of around 9, couldn’t care less about the car buying process while my sister of 15, eager to begin driving lessons, listened intently. As my mother and the car salesman spoke of boring topics of discussion such as “gas mileage” and the “safety features” of this Geo Metro, my mind started to wander.

Eventually, I was spinning around in circles to keep myself entertained. After a couple minutes, my sister noticed me spinning and grabbed me by the shoulders, stopping me from spinning. “Would you knock that off??” She let go instantly and I dizzily fell the ground, hitting my chin hard on the asphalt parking lot.

My mother grabbed me as I laid there crying and bleeding on the ground and whisked me off to the bathroom to get cleaned up. We left there without her new car.

To this day I still have a scar on my chin. I see it every morning as I put on my makeup and smirk at how silly I was as a child. And then I stop and think of my own children and their antics… Anthony getting his finger stuck in the bus seat belt. Ethan running with a sharp pencil and then tripping, only to run that pencil through his lip. Keira has yet to give me such stories but I’m sure it’s coming.

I look at that scar and I’m taken back to how it felt to be a kid, again. How the focus of life was not on how clean the house was but whether life was fun and exciting. So, when I catch Ethan stuffing a slice of cheese into his pocket to hide the snack he was sneaking before dinner, I think of my scar and laugh. “Hey buddy, how about you just eat the cheese instead of putting it through the laundry?”


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