Stories of the Scar

Posted by J on Jun 2, 2013 in J Posts | 1 comment

Years ago before a seventh grade math class, a newly sharpened pencil started rolling down my pitched desk. I moved quickly to catch it before it landed in my lap. I missed … the pencil landed eraser end down … and the lead tip dug deeply in to my left palm.

A mark has been inside the skin of my left palm ever since.

I was reminded of the story of that mark today as E was being interrogated by his brothers about the scars up and down his never-stopping legs. “That one,” he explained to his brothers, “was when I fell in a parking lot before a lacrosse game.”

His scars are like a roadmap of sorts. They chart danger and adventure from the twists and turns of his life — and the stories that are generated along the way.

Plus, these story scars trigger additional bits and pieces of stories. That parking lot he mentioned. The lacrosse team. Friends on the team. H, while talking about that day, remembered driving to the game with E and S.

Likewise, the mark on my left palm triggers memories of my seventh grade teacher, Mr. Davenport. He eventually became “Pete,” as S happened to teach with him after she and I graduated from college. Trigger more memories: our first years of marriage, our first apartment, our first dog ….

I love that.

So … our day began today in Takayama, Japan … flummoxed by an inanimate set of luggage lockers and the seemingly impossible amount of coins they needed in order to stow our gear. That’s the first picture in this post.

Then — the boys listened out for me as I hiked ahead, looking for the ruins of an ancient castle in the hills of a city park. That’s the second picture in this post.

Then — we had lunch — always food! Thanks, S! — IN the ruins of that ancient castle. That’s the third picture.

Then — well, we goofed on top of some marble markers that likely outlined where castle walls and rooms once stood.

ALL of these things trigger a million memories.

And I’m thankful to now wear them on my palms … and in my heart.