Scars & Memories

We were returning from a very interactive evening as much of the plans had flopped and what had really worked for us was talking .In one of those rare quiet moments he moved his finger on my scar, which sits with a loud elegance on my right hand. Well next what happened is so conspicuous that it doesn’t need a mention. I went on telling him the whole story of where, what and how.

For me scars have always been the tangible link which would transport me directly to those intangible memories. They fill me with squeaky laughter, tomato red shame and a sadness which I am yet to give words, it is as if I am running towards something and I know it is smiling at me but I just never catch it. It is faintly mine and not whole. They are such a true reminder of who you were what you did and that everything has changed around you, even your skin which carries it.

I have never tried to hide my scars, but I do see people hiding them .Are they not beautiful, are they not a part of you? They are the subtle signs of courage, curiosity and the big explorer in you. The super hero in you with those flying in the air stunts or the fidgety Philip on the dining table and yes of course the incredible feeling to cook something on your own at the expense of hot oil spilling, diving in the oven directly or the bad knife who did not treat you well .That was childhood all about and the child inside is each day ready to create more memories.

As the gentleman dropped me home, I sealed a memory without a scar but who said scars are only skin deep?