Thursday, April 5, 2007


It’s been brought to my attention (I’m not going to mention any names, but it was by the person I’m marrying) that I’m writing about topics. I will try to incorporate the Jack in for this entry. I will point out, however, that if someone wants Jack in, he should write something from Jack’s point of view or about Jack. I will gladly publish it…

There’s a thin little scar on my upper lip that’s barely visible unless you look really hard for it. It’s from where my brother hit me with a toy truck when we were little. I see that scar and think of him.

There’s a scar in the middle of my forehead on my hairline. It’s from where my mom accidentally burned my forehead with a curling iron when she was curling my bangs when I was little. She felt terrible about that, but I see that scar and think of her.

There’s a scar on my left inner wrist. It’s from Emily’s fingernail in middle school. I can’t even remember what we were doing when that happened but I remember the cut from her nail in her upstairs living area/game room. I see that scar and think of her.

There are ridges in my left thumb nail. If I buff them down, my nail is thin and breaks easily. If I leave them, the nail doesn’t look very girly. However, my dad has the same ridges in his left thumb, so when I see it, I think of him and smile despite the trouble it causes.

The second toe on my left foot is slightly bent sideways from having been broken. While in the flirting stage with Jack, I playfully kicked at him while I was barefoot. Being the big strong black belt he was, he blocked reflexively, breaking that and quite possibly the next toe. He felt terrible but in reality it was probably my fault (there, I admitted it was my fault now. Don’t expect me to do it again). I see that toe and think of him.

There’s a scar on my left calf where a stupid little Chihuahua bit me when I was out walking my neighbors’ dog, Hunny. I used to dogsit Hunny when she was a puppy and I was in middle school, and I went on to babysit their two little girls and fall completely in love with their entire family. I see that scar and think of them.

I think God gives us scars for a reason. Sometimes they’re from when we learn something, like my forehead scar. Sometimes they’re from others just being mean, like my leg scar, or perhaps an accident, like my upper lip scar and toe. Sometimes it’s an innate gift, like my thumb ridges.
Others have scars because of me too – probably more people than I know of.

Aubree has a scar on her forehead from the first time she ever broke skin. I was babysitting her at the time of the accident. She was spinning around and around to some music, happy as could be, when suddenly she fell and hit her forehead on the corner of her open drawer. I’d like to think she’ll see that and think of me.

Jack has a scar on his knee from the ACL surgery. After his surgery and before he could get around on his own, he stayed on my parents’ couch for a few weeks while I took care of him. I would even get up in the middle of the night when he called my room’s line to make him sandwiches and change his ice (his appetite was all messed up because of the medicine he was taking, so he wouldn’t eat all day and then all of the sudden he would wake up starving). He told me that this time, despite the incredibly difficult recovery, was one of his best memories. I’m probably not the only person he thinks of when he sees his scar, and perhaps he doesn’t think of me at all, but I’d like to think that he does.

These will not be our last scars. As I transition into my new life with Jack, I know more are coming. I pray that they will not be as deep as some we’ve seen others get, but I look forward to learning from all of them, and hopefully smiling about them later.

For Colin Joseph Zeitler: August 17, 2004 – April 4, 2005 – Not forgotten

From: Shane


I swear if I get another chance I'll hit you in the face with another truck.