Scar Tissue

I've heard it said scars are like tattoos but with better stories. This always intrigued me but I never really thought about it. That is until today when I stepped out of the shower, looked at myself in the mirror and noticed a long scar stretching from the center of my rib cage just under my left pectoral all the way to my back. Suddenly, I found myself reliving the night I got it the zipper like strip on my chest..


It was the evening of our senior dinner back in April of 2000. I remember I was wore black slacks, a black jacket, a black silk shirt emblazoned with a white dragon down the left side, a black tie tied directly around my neck and worn under the shirt which was unbuttoned at the neck, my trademark black sunglasses (seriously I don't think I went anywhere in high school without a pair of black sunglasses on... even at night), and a black ball cap that sported the Zero Bird logo. I either looked hella-sexy-sheik or like a complete and total fashion victim. Either way I felt pretty good about myself. The dinner was pretty good (which is high marks coming from me... Mollie hates that I say that) and the company was great. We spent a couple of hours looking at pictures of our four years together and thinking about what the future would hold for us.

The night was so fun we did not want it to end. After the dinner was over a group of friends slightly larger and more diverse than I usually hung out with headed for JK, one of my bestest friends, place. Where we sat around in our fancy clothes (well everyone else was in fancy clothes, I was still possibly dressed like a douche) and reminisced about the good ole days growing up in Columbus and we may have had a few drinks (probably wine coolers or MGD, nothing serious). Then for no reason, or possibly because JK's mom wanted us out of her family room, we decided to take our little party on the road as a skate party. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Sk8 or die! through the dark suburban streets as moonlit clouds rushed across ominous charcoal sky. A cool spring breezed rustled over fresh blossoms on near skeletal trees. Truly it was a magical night. And then I hit some wet leaves halfway down the path from Oakmont Elementary, crashed into a chain-link fence and tore open my flesh on the jagged metal. It hurt. A lot. But not enough to make me want to go to the hospital and get a tetanus shot and stitches. Instead I went home and slept it off. Or I tried to anyway. As I remember for the next week and a half everyone at school was a lot more touchy, feely with me than they had ever been before... knowing some of my sadistic friends the random hugs were probably an excuse to inflict pain on me.

After a few moments staring into the mirror I suddenly became aware of all the other scars on my body and face. Not all of them are as pronounced or as large as my chest scar but most of them seem to be able to transport me back to a moment in time (usually a rather painful moment) where I am suddenly surrounded by friends, family, sights, sounds, and smells of my past. It is almost like a mini-vacation in torture, but not really because besides the pain the memories are usually kind of comforting. Comforting in the way that reminds me that I am alive, that I exist. And I know if I ever get amnesia (in a weird sit-com sort of way… I watch way too much television… but it is my job so shut up!) all I'll have to do is look at the wound marks that cover my flesh and instantly everything will come racing back to me. It is pretty sick and twisted but it is also pretty friggin' cool. As bizarre as it sounds, I would not trade any of my scars or the stories that come with them for the world.