What do you think of when you hear the word “scar”? A think pink wound slowly trying to heal on someone’s skin, a painted on gash for a Halloween costume, or a pained face hiding something much deeper than a cut or scrape? “Scarred for life” may a phrase we hear or use when referring to a scar left on one’s body after accident or injury, or it may be said in the figurative sense.
We all have them. Unfortunately, some of us may have these mental scars while others find themselves emotionally scarred for various reasons, be them painful or ones that jog our memories of something rather joyful. Without a doubt, all of us are tainted with some kind of scar be it emotional or physical; my body has a fair few scars, some more painful (memories) than others, and one or two that happily bring back very early childhood memories.
As soon as we break away from the tight grip of mummy and daddy, we set out determined to explore the world on our own two feet. Being so small however, means that there is always a new bump or bruise appearing; gained from a crash or tumble whilst out on our daily adventures.
In all honesty, I don’t remember a great deal of my very early days, I think my first memories (the clearest ones anyway) are from when I attended nursery school. I remember Mrs Nelson with her short black hair and welcoming smile; I remember the position of the “painting table” just to the right of the door as we walked in; most of all, I remember the climbing frame and oh how I loved to climb. There was a ladder to climb high up, a slide to bring us back down and monkey bars which hovered above the “quiet time” mats. Although a great deal of fun was had on said climbing frame, it was this particular apparatus that left me with my very first scar…
Three or four I would have been, possibly a few months before starting my first year in primary school; I don’t remember the day or date but it wasn’t so dark outside so maybe it was spring time. Being so young, the memories of that day are vague. I remember being on the very top (as I was small it clearly looked higher and bigger than it was)of the climbing frame and finding it rather entertaining leaning over the edge. I’m sure I would have been told to be more careful, maybe even to come down, but it was only a matter of time before I fell…landing ever so neatly – chin first- on the cupboards down below. I don’t know why, but both my dad and my grandma arrived separately to pick me up; I’m guessing they both accompanied me to A+E where I was then stitched up. As the days passed and the stitched were removed, leaving me with my very first scar. If I tilt my head up just right you can see the think white line sitting just under my chin.
So there you have it, how I got that first scar. My body now has a fair few but I feel now is not the moment to bore you all with yet more stories from my early days. Hopefully I’ll find the right words to tell you some more tales in another blog post.
How did you get your first scar? Care to share some memories?
Welcome to my blogging world. Join me on my writing journey as I jot down all sorts; from things that make me happy and giggle, to travels and adventures already experienced. There may be moments when things get a little more serious, but mainly I'm here to share my thoughts and stories and learn lots from fellow bloggers. :-)
View All Posts