Family Photo:
Scars

When I was 2 years old, I was snuggling on my dad's chest while he rested on the couch. Then—in some split-second movement that must be common to the parent/child experience—I rolled over, fell off the couch, and hit my head on the edge of the coffee table.

There was blood, leading to a few stitches, but the only lasting damage is a thin scar above my left eye and my family's need to retell this story anytime someone asks, "Why is Josh that way?"

--

On our last day in Brazil, Luana's family came over to help us pack.

There were about twenty people at the house. We had a little barbecue. We all enjoyed each other's company one last time.

While Luana and her aunts finished weighing the last bags, I watched Calvin and Lawrence run around the front yard with their cousins. They were playing a game of tag where they threw a ball at each other, and everyone was giggling, but as Lawrence sprinted away his sandal caught on one of the stone steps leading up to the house.

In one of those split-second movements, he stumbled, fell, and his face caught the edge of the subsequent step. There was blood. Suddenly, Luana and I were no longer finalizing our packing. We were in the car, rushing to the hospital to see if our son needed stitches.

At the hospital, with everything cleaned up, he was cut above the eye in two places. Thankfully the eye itself was fine. But did he need stitches?

"It's 50/50," said the doctor. "I can see giving the cut a stitch, but is it worth the trauma for a child? It's mostly a cosmetic thing."

So we left the hospital, stitchless.

I spent the ride home thinking about how there's a before, and an after. The picture above is the last picture of Lawrence from before. In every picture after, he'll have a scar above his eye.

When we got back to the house, everyone tried to console us. An aunt pointed out the scar on a young cousin's forehead that is barely visible now, before sweeping aside her hair to tell us the story of the scar above her eye.

Before she could start, Luana and I were each already pointing to our own eyebrows, acknowledging our own childhood scars.

--

Scars are a sign of pain, but they're also a sign of healing. The scar on my elbow is where a doctor set my broken bone after I fell off my skateboard. The tiny scars on the front and back of my shoulder mark where another doctor once stitched the ligaments back together through arthroscopy.

--

The van to the airport picked us up a little after midnight. Calvin leaned his head against the window, sleepily watching the streetlights pass. He sniffled, turned to me, and said, "It's hard saying goodbye to people that you love."

He's right.

It's hard saying goodbye to the people that you love, to the people who've made a mark on your life.

Dad Joke:
Write From Your Scars

My friend Camilo Moreno-Salamanca once commented "We write poetry from our wounds and prose from our scars," which reminded of a joke by my friend Harrison Moore:

If you’re not great at writing poetry,
then perhaps you should leave it to the prose.

Image: Dad[AI]Base

Highlights:
Perhaps Scarred

​Working title (insurance) by Patrick McKenzie​

​Adulting Fast and Slow by David Perell​

​Catfish Noodling 101: A Beginner's Guide by Will Brantley​

iamJoshKnox Highlights:
AI Creativity Workshop

Want to learn more about thoughtful, creative uses of AI? Want to visit San Luis Obispo?
In September, I'm doing an AI Creativity Workshop program with the Lifelong Learners of the Central Coast.
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Until next week,
​iamJoshKnox​​

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