My father always gave great, funny, and completely ridiculous advice…but mixed in there were a few good ones.
One of those good ones was about scars. He told me this one when I was really young, I was crawling on the floor in Montgomery Ward (yea, that store) and I crawled over the metal strip that holds down the carpet as the floor transitions from carpet to flooring. I was hiding underneath the racks of clothes, just being a crazy, happy, care free kid. My knee struck the the metal strip and cut a gash so severe in my leg I was taken to the hospital (Riverside Walter Reed, Newport News VA). They patched me up, but my father didn’t want me to get stitches, he thought it’d make me scared and the doctors and nurses told him that the cut would heal okay on it’s own if they kept it clean and covered. As you can imagine I was a crying mess….it hurt!
When I got into High School, years later, I was always so self conscious about my scar on my knee (that is still very visible today). No one else had a scar like it and I had other things going that made me stand out enough, such as, moussaka left overs, frizzy greek hair, olive skin, and homemade clothes (which I now value more than most things), I didn’t need this scar.
I mentioned my feelings about my scar one day when I was having rebellious teenage drama and my daddy told me these words:
Scars make the best tattoos, no two are alike, and they tell a story better than ink ever could. Be proud of the scars you have and the story you tell, they make you who you are and whenever you feel like you aren’t the same as everyone else. It’s because you aren’t, your stronger and more beautiful and you have the scars to prove it.
When I saw you the other day – with your epic Craniectomy scar, I thought of these words. I smiled, because they came from my dad, but also because they are true.