The sun and my yard are calling me yet I can not go out there until I jot down what is marching around in my head from yesterday’s Daily Prompt – Scar.
Scars, typically are visible from the outside. Some childhood trauma (I certainly have one – story a bit later) or a emergency visit/surgical procedure at the local ER can leave a scar. The wound usually will have stitches or staples, depending on you locale or the decade you were lucky enough to receive said stitch-ery…and the tissue healing underneath your external birthday suit will bunch up and mostly turn 3 shades lighter than the surrounding area.Or in the case of minor nicks/cuts/scrapes the skin just heals itself and many time without visible evidence….or years later it has faded both on your B-suit and in your memory.
In which case you rip off the bandage and/or the doctor removes said stitches/staples and viola…like magic the gaping, oozing wound has closed.
My one ugly scar is a result of a prank I committed when I was about 11. My uncle had a dairy farm in eastern Washington state and we visited each summer. The farmhouse sat on the banks of a river. My male cousins, older and therefore the crew for all related farm chores. At the end of the chores…what ever clothing they wore was shed at the banks of the river and naked bodies flew to cool, swift river.
I decided to take their clothes…but I wasn’t fast enough and as they chased me I rounded the outhouse (it was a long, long time ago), tripped and sliced open my left knee on a bottle that was half buried in the dirt. The scar is still plainly visible and I haven’t pranked anyone in decades. (They were hilariously happy at this turn of events.)
Other scars are hidden.
Behind the smile. Behind the perfectly turned out silhouette. Behind brilliant grades. Behind the comedic jokes and prat falls. Behind the anger. Behind the depression.
Invisible, hidden for years. Until something inside you snaps.
Alcoholism, drug addiction, gambling, domestic violence, rape/incest, catatonic depression or suicide attempts, rage and murderous rampages.
We all carry internal scars. Some of us get help. We are intervened on, a parent turns a child in before any long-term external damage is done, a friend suggests the name of a doctor or counselor. Some never get the help they need.
Some are not so lucky and end up in prison or worst…shot by law enforcement.
The scars still remain.
Be kind. You have no idea what the other person in front of you is going through…their scars may just be pushing them in another direction. And we can not see it.