The average person must have hundreds of scars on their body by the time they are a teenager, some of which, we probably aren’t aware of. They are small and round dots from a lost battle against the itch of Chicken Pox or hives or scars of puberty taking it’s toll, they are straight, perfect lines from encounters with metal, wire, and glass, or jagged from stepping on a pair of open scissors that had been left on the ground after cutting a happy Mother’s Day card out of construction paper.
We, as humans are susceptible to these sorts of injuries, even the most calloused flesh is unable to meet a sharpened object unharmed. Scars are our only way of fighting back, even if it is after the battle. And even when we heal, no matter how many flecks or outer layers of skin fall off, we are never rid of the proof that the wound was once there.
I really enjoyed this piece, especially because of the descriptions. The way you describe just the skin of your great grandmother is so detailed and creates a great visual image. I also like how you use lots of metaphors and use different mini-stories to say something. However, I think that the personal stories and descriptions are really good on their own and don't necessarily need the less personal ones. Great piece, and really enjoyable to read.
ReplyDeleteI loved this piece. The comparison between the physical scars from scissors per say, to you grandmothers "scars" of wrinkles and darkened skin creates a good parallel. It got the point across that her long life created a plethora of wisdom and experience, as is reflected in any scars. The decriptions are very well done, your own personal desired tweaks to the piece (if any) are the only ones needed, in my opinion. Really good job.
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