Friday, December 5, 2008

The Tale of a Scar

I was a child, maybe four, maybe five years old. My brother and I were playing in tag in the living room. I ran behind the rocking chair and he jumped onto the rocking chair. It rocked. It hit me. It knocked me across the room into the livingroom window frame. It laid open my forehead. Years passed and I have gathered my share of scars, including a much longer one that crosses that childhood scar at an angle. When I look in the mirror in the morning and see those two reminders of life, it is the smaller, older scar that makes me smile and think of my brother fondly.

(If you look over to the links on the right hand side you will see a link to a blog called One Minute Writer - this entry was original posted there in the comment section in relation to one of the daily prompts.)

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