A SCAR FOR A BIKE

Disclaimer: photo not mine.

  
I was 8 years old back then—I was running and playing with my sister in front of our home…typical children’s play, an ordinary day. We were running fast when all of a sudden, when I turned back, a bicycle was moving my way already…too fast I wasn’t able to avoid it. It moved towards me, unable to clutch the breaks before it hit me directly. I fell to ground, good thing my face and upper extremities were spared from cuts and bruises. However, my legs were bruised and I had a deep cut on my left knee and leg, and a smaller one on my right. It was bleeding and I was so scared and very much in pain that time. My mom came to me and cleaned my wounds. I didn’t know what happened to the bicycle driver, and I never even saw his (I know he’s a guy) face. I was hoping that my uncles and my grandmother would somehow reprimand him for being so careless—if that ever happened, I have no idea. While my mom was nursing my wounds, she scolded me for being so sloppy. She reminded me that I should always be cautious while playing along the streets, because in the first place, it wasn’t a playground where I just run around without being hit by anything with wheels. Most of all, she was so displeased by the fact that I have a very deep wound, that she said would definitely leave a scar. I was so young then, I don’t really care about scars and all. What I really cared about was the fact that I can see my gushing wound and that it really hurts. But my mom did—she worried that my soon-to-be scar won’t look so good on my legs. She, of most people cared about my skin, and she hated it every time I get bruises and insect bites. She wanted our skin to be unblemished. Talk about hygiene and skin care with my mom.

That was twelve years ago. The scar I have on my left leg is really visible (at least on my sight) blending against my skin given its complexion. It is at least an inch length and half an inch width. I never really paid much attention to it, but when I saw it in front of the mirror one day, it reminded me of that particular day—hazy with details but still present in my memory. I can still even recall that I was really crying that day. Nevertheless, it’s a mark of my past.

Why talk about scars? Well, there’s just so much about it and there are different kinds of too. Some are deep…some are keloid scars…some hollow ones…others are mere patch of distorted skin…there are those with breaks, and the ones with calluses. Each has a different story, but one thing’s for sure…it was once a wound—a deep one, that caused a great deal of pain. Wounds heal, in different stages and different paces. Not all wounds leave a scar because our skin regenerates. But only deep wounds leave an evidence—a scar—which our body can do no more than to just allow the pain to dissipate and the wound to close and heal. We all have been wounded…once, twice or more…felt a variety of pain, flashes different glints of memory about it—and then, we move on. But I guess, even if we’ve gone far enough, whenever we see that scar, the memory resurfaces and we may feel a bit of pain still…but it’s never the same again.

 

Because of that incident in my life, I never got the courage to ride a bike…I’ve always been afraid of getting wounded again…afraid of running because I might stumble and fall again…that fear stopped me from experiencing some great but simple joys in life. I never knew the feeling of actually riding a bicycle, because I never allowed myself to ride. It wasn’t that scar, but the pain I felt when I once had it, that never allowed me to summon the courage to get past through it. I guess we all get afraid sometimes, and our scars remind us of that fear—fear of pain. It’s a reminder, that we’re vulnerable. And it always—always takes time to recover. I always regret not trying hard enough to learn how to ride on a bicycle. But I know, that no matter how persistent our minds push us to do something we fear, every so often, we’re not strong enough. It’s not our fault—It’s just who we are. We all have weaknesses, and my own scar reminded me of my own limitation. We all move on, but our past doesn’t move with us. It stays as it is, and how it affects our present is a choice we always make.

Wounds become a scar for reasons—it’s been healed and it’s a remembrance of that experience we once had with our pasts. Just like with my scar, the memory behind it reminded me that we could run carefree through life—the breeze that brushes our face when we lope and the freedom that joggles in our feet when we dash—but in that run, there are bumps that could get in the way, some people who would jerk behind our back and topple us down. But most importantly, the ones who would raise us back to our feet again. The impediments, fall-backs, and pains we face in our life are never an excuse to remain stagnant and fearful, and coward. Life moves, and it moves with us.

POSTSCRIPT:

My mom, with her protectiveness, kept my fears at bay. That day, when she was so worried about my wound, I know she was most worried about the pain. I was crying and I know she was in much pain as I was. But she did a really good job of reminding me to be really cautious…to be extra careful while I run and play around—that some people are there to knock us down and never really cared to look behind and help us up. She won’t always be there to nurse my wounds—as a grown up, I had to do it on my own. Sometimes, we’re just by ourselves alone with the disappointments in life, and my mom doesn’t want me to go through that unarmed and unprotected. She knows that no matter how much she wanted to protect me and my sister, we will always feel pain. Maybe that’s why, that day, after cleaning my wounds, she bought me an ice cream—to let me know that no matter how painful it felt, how bitter it tasted, and how terrible it really looked—it’s just a choco-flavored ice cream that could save the day! She wanted me to know, that not all pain stays—it gradually disappears, either because of a numbing coldness, or a sweet tasting delight of something that’s really good. Nevertheless, it always goes away—maybe not entirely soon—but eventually, it will…

THINGS I LEARNED THIS YEAR

Disclaimer: photo not mine.

“The early bird catches the worm. A stitch in time saves nine. He who hesitates is lost. We can't pretend we hadn't been told. We've all heard the proverbs, heard the philosophers, heard our grandparents warning us about wasted time, heard the damn poets urging us to seize the day. Still sometimes we have to see for ourselves. We have to make our own mistakes. We have to learn our own lessons. We have to sweep today's possibility under tomorrow's rug until we can't anymore. Until we finally understand for ourselves what Benjamin Franklin really meant. That knowing is better than wondering, that waking is better than sleeping, and even the biggest failure, even the worst, beat the hell out of never trying.” –Meredith (Grey’s Anatomy)

THINGS I LEARNED THIS YEAR

I have learned so many things in the 2 decades of my existence. Some of them, I have to re-learn until I fully understand what it truly meant. Some are more memorable and meaningful than the others, while some stand out and the others remain forgotten until the moment I need them again. This year is probably one of the most unforgettable years for me…and this year:

I learned that life is like a series of rooms; each day, we get stuck in one room with one person, and that person adds up to who we are. (House)

I learned that the easiest way to grow as a person is to surround yourself with people smarter and stronger than you are.

I learned that it actually takes two weeks to start a habit.

I learned that no matter how much goodness you’ve done to others, they will still hurt you at some point.

I learned that being too nice can actually make you sick.

I learned that even the best kind of friendship can still break.

I learned that sometimes, you have to fight back and rise above your fears and inhibitions.

I learned that people always leave. But sometimes, they do come back. (OTH)

I learned that when somebody walks out of your life, it’s their choice…but sometimes, it’s your fault.

I learned that when somebody leaves, another one would inevitable take their place.

I learned that, eventually, all things would change…and the only thing that’s permanent is (your) family. (Eat.Pray.Love)

I learned that although change is inevitable, they always do us good favors.

I learned that it’s okay to mess up and feel like crap sometimes.

I learned that the things you wanted to forget are the things you most need to talk about.

I learned that ignoring the facts doesn’t change the facts.

I learned that bitching isn’t that bad.

I learned that the way people treats you reflect how you actually treat them…or sometimes, it’s just the way 

they are.

I learned that the ones who are capable of hurting you are the ones you love or the ones who love you most.

I learned that the safest place to feel is the place you most truly belong. Friends and Family—they’re the ones we call a home.

Most of all, I learned that each day, is a chance to learn and to grow, to choose to be happy, to live simply…and to be grateful.

The moment we truly learn our lessons are the times when we are able to apply them in the various circumstances of our lives. There’s a difference between knowing and learning, and there is a thin line separating them. At some point, we will realize that we grow more each day for the things we learn, the emotions we feel, and the acts we do for ourselves and for others. They say that experience is the best teacher and I used to disagree. But now I know that it is only through experience that we can say we have truly learned—the moment when we stop wondering what it’s like to walk on some other’s shoes, or stand on their grounds. Our experiences are as unique as their own, so as on how we learn from them.