Learning To Love You More




Assignment #11
Photograph a scar and write about it.

Bethany Greenfield
Whitstable, ENGLAND



These are actually two scars on the same knee, but they are from two very different circumstances. The first, which is quite small; it is the straight line going horizontally across my knee, I did in Greece when I was about six years old. It was nearing the end of the day and I was out on our little balcony which was all made of marble and I tripped over on my flip flop and fell straight onto the marble step. I cried so much and for so long, and there were these lovely Greek ladies on the balcony above who came to my rescue. I remember my mother put those butterfly stitch things on it and I went swimming in the sea the very next day and it stung a lot but my mum told me that the salt would make it better.
The second is much more recent. I did it in Paris the day before New Year's Eve 2008. I was on holiday with four of my friends and it was the first time we had ever been on holiday together without parents so we spent the whole holiday getting drunk and exploring Paris and being irresponsible teenagers. So on this night we went to a few bars and I had this cocktail called ÔLola' and there's a Polaroid of me right before I fell over, I don't think my eyes are in focus. I was running after my boyfriend down the road and just went flying and I don't remember anything until I woke up the next morning with my tights stuck to my knee with blood and having to tear them off was the most harrowing moment of my life thus far. I had a cut on my face as well and I'd never felt sillier and wanted my mum more in my life. I was limping for weeks after and I couldn't bend my knee, but my friends were lovely and looked after me and bought me plasters with cartoon animal faces on them even though thinking back I probably needed stitches. I'll have this scar for life and it will always remind me of that week in Paris, it was one of the best weeks of my life. I will always look at it and remember not to take life too seriously because once upon a time I was scraped off a Parisian pavement and carried home in a taxi by some people who love me very much.