She’s been noticing my scars.
“Imma, what’s that?” she asks, as she gently traces the lines on my arms.
I don’t know what to say.
“Did you go to the doctor? Did he make it all better?”
So I tell her the truth.
“Yes sweetie, I did go to the doctor. I had a boo-boo and I needed someone to help me fix it.”
“What did he do? Did he give you medicine?”
“He gave me something to make it feel a bit better.”
“Oh…so what’s that? It didn’t go away?”
“The pain went away, but I still have a scar.”
“What’s a scar, Imma?”
“A scar is what’s left after the boo-boo goes away. But don’t worry, sweetie, it doesn’t hurt me anymore.”
“Okay, Imma. I gonna make you happy now.”
She kisses each mark and scampers off to play.
I’m left alone with my memories.
I look down at the stories carved into my skin and wonder if the ones carved into my heart are visible to her as well.