When I first thought up this title I was referring to physical scars we all have received over the years. For many they may have been from a long ago accident, most likely as a kid. Falling from a bike, a fight with a brother or sister or some long ago adventure. And when we look at the scar we've carried around for all these years, a story is always with it. I have several of these, a birthmark on the back of my leg that has grown as I have grown. People have often asked me where I got the bruise from. Or the one on my knee where I slid into gravel while riding my bike. I wasn't suppose to be riding on that particular street and didn't want anyone to find out about it. I cleaned my knee up as best as I could but some of the gravel never did come out and when the skin grew back on that knee some of that gravel remained with me, the pain long ago gone but a reminder now of what happens when you don't listen to your parents.
I also have many scars from later in life, of a different kind, that remind me of stories I have a hard time telling. But I've also realized that the scar tissue that also remains are the scars insides. These also don't tan. The sun doesn't shine on them making them less noticeable, but rather make them show more - a reminder of what has happened and the meaning those scars continue to have in my life.
I look at these scars, both inside and out, and each still tells a story. A story of the pain and heartbreak. A story of my life. Each scar representing a release from the pain, not forever, but long enough for me to go on with the next part of my life. As long as I can see the scars then I am alive, the pain has not killed me. I wonder if it has changed anything or are things still yet to change.
It can be a lonely existence. For the pain isn't for sharing it is kept for me to handle. And at one time it would have be easier to handle. Back when there was only me, but only me changed a long time ago. And along with it came a husband and two daughters. They too are part of the pain, but they are also part of the happiness. Again lines blur the happy into the sad and back again.
The responsibility, the maturity. The things I thought I wanted, but didn't that now can't be changed. Decisions that are made by us before we are old enough to understand the consequences of what we are doing. But then are we ever old enough. Is that really the question we should be asking ourselves. Who really plans their life. Isn't is just a series of events. Some started by ourselves, but others we don't control. And it's what we do with these events.
It's these unexpected occurrences and our inability to handle them that cause the scars. We just didn't know any better, or we did the best we could, but was that really our best? For many we just shut down, stop existing but let the world around us continue to exist.
And while some scars may fade, the memory of them remains. Or some remain, readying to be pulled open again at any moment.
No comments:
Post a Comment