Six Word Memoirs on Life Stories

Dragonflower says,

It's on my left knee. I got it when I was probably 5 or 6. I was having fun sliding on the kitchen floor in my socks, but I fell on the metal strip holding down the carpet that was between the hall and the kitchen. I guess one of the screws was loose and that's what my knee fell on. It bled and bled, I remember that. There was a big scar for the longest time, well into adulthood. I was kinda proud of it because I was a real girly girl and rarely hurt myself playing, like the other kids.

I just looked at my knee before writing this story, and lo and behold, it has finally faded into almost nothing. I'm kinda bummed. But I know its there. Proof that I acted like a kid at least once in my life!

maryjane31 says,

Scars on my right arm from years of cooking and grilling. I am never careful and I hate wearing those oven gloves. So I get burnt!

Layne says,

Its a deep knick out of my right shin. I got it racing in the sailing junior olympics last year. It was blowing 30mph; the most amazing day of sailing I'd ever experienced. We were in third when our boat capsized, which is when I cut my shin open on a cleat. It was bad and bled most of the race, but I couldnt get a bandaid being wet and mid-race. We came in ninth overall, my teammate and I, and that weekend is something I'll never forget.

It's kind of an ugly little thing; ill be the first to admit that. But I also love the memories that I now have as a part of me. It reminds me of better times, the most incredible times of my life; when i can say i am truly happy. And like those summer memories, I dont think its going away any time soon:)

accidentaltourist says,

I have a sprinkling of scars from injuries: my right knee, tumbling down a briar-covered embankment when I was 5; the palm of my left hand, from falling out of a tree when I was 8; and my left middle finger has a fault line in the fingerprint caused by a carving tool I used in high school art class (fail).

But the scars that came immediately to mind were the ones on my face from skin cancer surgery. I never thought I was vain until I was faced with having my face disfigured, and I'm ashamed to admit that I waited too long to have the first surgery; hence, a scar that is significantly more extensive than it should have been. My surgeon was good...IS good (because there's a real chance I'll be back to see him again)...and if I am honest, I can look in the mirror and say the scars aren't bad at all. But I know they are there. And they remind me always that the only one who can take care of me is ME.