The Snowflake Chronicles

Overwriting

7 Nur 163 B.E. – June 10 – 11, 2006 A.D.

Some scars are more noticeable than others are, every body can see some scars, while others remain hidden deep in the mind and soul. Scars are common to humanity, acquired in various ways, and as we mature, as the body renews itself every seven years or so the scars that were once glaring become ghost. There are some scars one doesn’t remember acquiring and others can’t be forgotten. Everyone has a scar story, a story that you tell to your children and grandchildren.

My Grandmother Newland’s scar story was about riding a blind horse to school. Raised on a farm, my Grandmother went to a one-room country school. She and her sister Ida, rode a blind horse to school everyday, winter and summer, spring and fall. They usually watched where they were going and guided the horse around obstacles. However, one day they weren’t watching where the horse was headed, the horse ran into a barbed wire fence, as a results my Grandmother and her sister had barbed wire scars on their legs.

My scar story is about the scar on my right ring fingers. There was a swing at my Grandparent’s house; it hung beside the garage next to a cloths line. Suspended from the cloths line was a wire with a hooked end dangling from the line. What the wire was used for I don’t remember, what I do remember was swing in the swing and deciding that I wanted to plane Jane (Tarzan’s girl friend). So I grabbed the wire and started to swing like I had saw Jane and Tarzan do on T.V. Naturally, the wire wouldn’t hold me and my hands slide off, as a results I got a pretty bad cut. My Grandfather drove me to the hospital and I got several stitches.