Scarred Part 6

March, 2011. 1” – back of left hand.  From pulling an 80+ pound monster doggie off of Ramone.  I had choked it unconscious, but let go too soon and it jumped up and got me good.  Nothing I wouldn’t do for my boy. It’s a gooood scar.

As I said, I like my scars; I wear them, in many ways, as badges of honor.  They’ve healed well over time, and continue to fade as the years go by.  Sometime, I fear that they’ll disappear completely.

But, those that run deepest are the ones that are burnt on the heart and on the soul.

They may not be visible on a physical plane, but –untilI learn how to heal—they are the ones that remain forever etched on being, my waking consciousness.

The experiences and the people that make a life.  The moments that matter.

My MOM.  My DAD.  SAM.  MARLEY.  G.  My sense of SELF.

Some days, these scars are much more faint than they are on others.  And on others, they are vivid.  Fresh.  Raw.