A Scarry Story…
Not a misprint; a pun
I wrote this in a bygone time when it was okay to be around people –
Let’s talk about brain surgery scars. As an aspiring writer, I find myself looking for connections and metaphors in the profane dribble of everyday life. Is there actually something there? Perhaps yes, perhaps no. As WI Thomas once said and I’ve since parroted roughly 16,852 times, “What we perceive to be real is real in its consequences” — that’s more of an approximation of what he said, but the profundity of the message is retained. I come to you today, rear deader, with such a scenario.
Recently, thanks to the influence of time and human physiology, my hair reached critical volume, taking on dense, yet small objects as satellites (batteries, nails, die-cast cars, and planes, etc.). Therefore, I sought a haircut.
The details of the cut itself are unimportant. Suffice it to say that my stylist was a very pleasant woman named…uhh, I forgot. She and I discussed the bleak conditions of public education opportunities in our proximity.
The important thing here is this –
Here I am, nearly 11 years later still going on about it.
That’s what that scar is. A timeline. Along its path are regrets — missed opportunities, divorce, unfulfilled professional, and personal goals. But, here and there is found a ray of hope — a daughter with boundless virtue, an unwritten future taking shape before my eyes, a greater understanding of myself and what it is to be human than I ever thought possible.
I think I’ve arrived at the significance — Nothing is what it seems. My stylist thought she was just giving me a haircut when she was actually exposing an artifact of life never dreamed of, but very real. You might say she’s an archaeologist of the soul.
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