my name is ra.

what happened there?

Life happened.

I ran so fast I left bits of skin and blood behind on a four lane freeway in Seattle.  I bled into a bus in Jersey, but the bus driver had a Green Lantern bandaid in his metal lunch box, so it didn’t scar as much as it could have.

I was slapped by a dog.  Thick claws against soft human skin.  Drank out of a straw for three months and called it a win.  We lived too far from the hospital to get stitches unless it was a dire necessity, but dried tobacco held my face in place even if it did cost me my dimples.

Stitches had been a dire necessity only a year before.  Double-digit tallies of thread, sewn in by a doctor who looked like Mr. Magoo and smelled like mint peppermint patties.

A stapler, wielded poorly by an astronaut.  A luggage buckle, dropped by a handsome bellman. A concession stand, on the outskirts of a volleyball game.

A plastic spoon at a funeral.  A saran wrap machine in a gas station.  A giant tub of cobbler in state prison, made worse by the fire we fought the next day.

Worrying too much.  Thinking too hard.  Working too long.   It’s a wrinkle, not a scar, but good luck sinking the truth into my thick skin.

Piercings I changed my mind about.  The chicken pox.  A rubber-stubbed bow to the eye as I watch my brother marry a sister into my life.  A pinch from a sliding door as I watched my sister’s first steps.  Cat scratch. Bee sting. Splinter from a treehouse I loved, a treehouse I hated, a dog house that never housed a dog. Splinter from a chicken coop that housed a zillion chickens– and me, for a day.

A bathroom counter, once. Twice.  Okay, three times.

That one? Just a birthmark, a mole, a beauty mark.  They say it makes me royalty, magical, hallmarked by God.   They say it makes me cursed, fate-kissed, pinpointed by a Universe on a path of destruction.

The time I was outside.   The time I was inside.  The time I was loved, and the time I was forgotten.  It’s just a wrinkle, a mark, a fold, a cut, a line, a dot, a spot.  It’s just the same story, over and over again.

I ran so fast that I left bits of myself behind, everywhere.

What happened there?
Life happened.

Aren’t I lucky?

Those days, when you love all your wrinkles and scars. #LifeHappened

A post shared by My name is Ra. (@rawra.avis) on

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What’s your favorite scar, birthmark, or wrinkle?

39 comments

  1. the scars, wrinkles, cuts, folds, and marks are all there to let the light shine through more. 🙂 I have scars from cats I’ve known and cats I didn’t know, pancakes, a swimming pool, and three moles in a straight line that (I think) link me to Orion in the sky. I used to have an upside-down heart birthmark, but it faded before I was a month old.

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    1. A birthmark that faded– a birth beacon! There just long enough to remind everyone that you were born loved. 🙂

      Oh yes, a swimming pool, I have one of those myself. But a pancake… uh… a hot pancake?! 😀

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Well, the direct cause was a bit of grease that decided my hand was a better place to be than the pan. But I was making pancakes at the time. So, pancakes. 😀

        Liked by 1 person

        1. Ha! It all makes sense now. Dave slipped on pancake batter once and cut his shoulder. He’d always tell people “pancake” when they asked what happened… and I imagine that they imagined a little knife-wielding ninja pancake. 🙂

          Liked by 3 people

  2. I’ve got a scar on my neck which itches occasionally from where a benign mole was dug out. I have another smaller mole on my side near my waist which may eventually get the same treatment. I have brown freckles, the colour of my hair, in a few places across my body, dotted about. A few are arranged in groupings to look like a diamond or ‘Southern Cross’ shape. I have a birthmark on my shin in a splodgy light brown shape. I also have smile-dimples – small ones – and lines that mark bigger ones.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh yeah, dimples are scars, too… right? And I have freckles, though goodness only knows how that is possible. 😀 A diamond shape to them sounds magical, though– it probably means something wonderful. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

      1. 😀 I like it because there’s a constellation Down Under known as the Southern Cross, which is sort of symbolic around where I live to an extent (Eureka rebellion etc.) also it’s pretty.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. I used to say that my favorite scar was the one from my C-section because it gave me the most beautiful girl! However, a few years later they used the same incision for my hysterectomy which was very painful during recovery. And that hysterectomy ended up being botched because 20 years later I grew a malignant cyst in an ovary that was supposedly removed when they did my “complete hysterectomy”. So now I don’t like that scar very much anymore.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh scars. They seem so permanent but they change, just like us, with time and circumstance. Maybe we’ll just love the inside of that scar, then– the part that got to see her before anyone else. ❤

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Oh my goodness what a wonderful way to describe all of those bits and pieces we leave and gain.

    The scar on my neck from nine stitches is now my pet Centipede. The birthmark on my leg is a map of Madagascar. I’m sure shadows are left on the ground from a multitude of falls.

    This was fun. You’ve also left bits of your heart and imagination – which is a wonderful thing.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. What a wonderful image– all the shadows we leave behind, too! 😀 I love that you have a centipede to help you hold your head up, they’re exceptionally strong you know. Love to you, Juliette. Much love. ❤

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  5. So this is probably TMI but…I have a huge birthmark on my butt. My mom jokes that it looks like she didn’t change my diaper fast enough when I was a baby and my butt was stained brown. My girlfriend affectionately refers to it as “the shit stain”lol!

    Liked by 1 person

  6. For years, I had a tiny scar on my wrist from some accident or another; it was in exactly the right spot to make people think I had almost cut my wrist on purpose–if anyone had ever noticed it. The only real scar of note I have is from my hysterectomy, but it’s mostly faded now. But I can still see the staples that held me together for a couple weeks after in my mind’s eye.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hurrah for hero staples! And I’ve had a few if those wrist scars… They faded quickly there but they’re odd little things when they’re around. ❤

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  7. What a wonderful way to describe the special marks that shape you!

    For what it’s worth, I don’t think anyone sees anything but your sweet face and lovely smile when they look at you. I can’t see any scars or wrinkles. Just you. 🙂

    I have a birthmark of sorts on my forehead. Looks more like a scar than anything else but I was born with it. When I would look in the mirror, it looked like a 7, and I felt special, one of God’s chosen, His holy number! Then, as a teen, I got the chicken pox, and my lovely 7 became a question mark. God had the last laugh on my ego!

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Love your post and all the comments! I have a raised brown birthmark on the outside of my leg. My mom told me it was where the fairies kissed me. It’s not very nice because the hair grows out thick and dark but I’ve learnt to accept it’s part of me. Interestingly, my daughter has a mini birthmark in the same spot and another on her thigh, where her father has a birthmark. No mistaking whose daughter she is! My favourite scars are my stretch marks, where my son and daughter moulded and marked my body with their reaching towards life. Now my daughter’s son is stretching and changing her belly as he waits to be born. Isn’t life amazing?

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  9. I have a tiny frimple. A freckle on a dimple. Or a deckle, but I prefer frimple. Most of my scars have faded but I was never ashamed of them. My most obvious scar I scored when running in my backyard and tripped over the garden hose. My knee got infected, and I swear I still have gravel in it! 🙂

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  10. For what it’s worth, I’ve changed my major from Psychology to Forensic Psychology. I’m fairly certain I’ll be moving into the prison psychologist direction. I sort of have a thing for people who’ve been locked away in AD SEG and forgotten about. I don’t have grand visions of changing prison politics there, but maybe I can offer some humanity to a person here or there. Well, those are my hopes, anyway. Thanks for helping to influence my changing direction. ;0) Nothing happens without absolute purpose! You were strong before prison, but now you’re a fire-walker. It hurts like hell when you’re getting your new feet, but MAN are they cool afterwards…heheh… x

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  11. I’d read before that some people believe birthmarks are where you were killed in a past life. I heard that and immediately thought: “hmmm… Death by butt?” I too am a butt birthmark girl- though mine is about the size of a dime. My favorite freckle is in the middle of my toe… My favorite scars are my couple of stretch marks on my side from having my girls. I call them my tiger stripes and they remind me that I am a warrior!

    Liked by 1 person

  12. My latest is in my left hand next to my thumb where the knife cut not only the apple but the flesh as well. 3 stitches later and I have yet another scar to add to my ever growing number. They are part of me but my favorite (if a scar can be a favorite) is my C Section scar which still shows faintly 30 years later.

    Liked by 1 person

  13. Just perfect, Rara. I look at my body and all it’s scars and wrinkles and am reminded of the story of my life. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t trade it for a younger one, but there are days….

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I changed my mind. I have a tiny freckle on my lip, in a very similar position to yours. I always liked that one. And I quite like the mole below my shoulderblade which turns my Fibonacci spiral tattoo into some kind of weird punctuation mark.

      I think my tattoos are my favourite marks though – they’re all for a reason.

      Liked by 1 person

  14. My favorite scar is on my wrist. I was having a deep bout of depression as a teenager and I’ll be honest- the thought of doing something drastic had crossed my mind. A lot. Then one day, a friend of my dad’s came over. He was homeless and hungry. We had sausages and dad asked me to fry him some. As I was cutting them the knife slipped. My dad’s friend had been a medic and put me back together. No way was I going to the hospital.
    It sounds bleak, but that was the moment that I realized that I didn’t want to do that to myself. Ever. No matter how tough things have gotten over the years, I look at that scar and it grounds me. Reminds me that I’m where I need to be.

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  15. That is life, isn’t it? Leaving little bits of yourself everywhere. This was a great post.

    So many scars, but my favorite is the one on my inner elbow from a time in my childhood when I tried to ride my bike with my hands crossed. I don’t recommend trying this.

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  16. I’ve had a lot of surgery, so my abdomen is one scar superimposed on another. I love them all. i would be dead if they weren’t there. Or sick, which is worse. So I can’t choose one.

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  17. Scars from falling over as a kid on my knees, a scar on my left thumb from a slip with a penknife, scars on my heart from living in an imperfect world.

    No wrinkles as yet, neither grey hairs, but they will come I’m sure. With love and laughter, tears, happiness, pain and heartbrake. For that is the way in which the world turns, the way in which we grow, the way in which we can make this world a little less imperfect.

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