The scar

My legs carried me far beyond my capabilities. My heart giddy; true childish happiness. The sun’s rays kissed my golden skin as if it were a mother kissing her firstborn child. The bluest sky without an imperfection. The greenest foliage you could ever lay your eyes on.

To be free, to feel light, to feel unlimited.

Through all the excitement of exploration, my eyes aimed up, my focus sporadic, and a fall that causes everything to crash down.

The moment happens in a flash, yet my body felt every scrap against my tender skin, every pang of pain against my knee.

I stopped falling, got up and observed the damage. The pain flooded in an instant. The scars and cuts are terrible. life-threatening. life changing.

But there is a moment after the rush of emotions subside, I brush away the tears and truly acknowledge how I feel, the scar is not as bad as I initially thought. The comfort of my mother, holding me close and rocking my body, rubbing my shoulder to soothe the pain in my knee.

A few blows of her warm breath and, like magic, I could walk again.

I grew. I learnt to carry aid with us, to stand independently and to look after ourselves. Yet, we look up at the sky less. We feel limited in our prowess and constricted in the speed at which we move.

The scar left a reminder. Forever printed on my golden skin. Forever reminding me to look up and continue to look up regardless of the impacts and troubles. Everything is temporary, but I will always live to tell the tale of the scar.