Scars

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.