Learning To Love You More




Assignment #11
Photograph a scar and write about it.

Brooklyn, New York USA



On the first day of fifth grade I woke up feeling nauseous...my mother called it a bad case of butterflies and since I was a little nervous, I agreed with her and went to school anyway. I thought the feeling would pass quickly since I'd known all of the kids in my class since kindergarten but as the day went on it got worse and worse. Finally, my class was lined up at the door ready to leave for the day...my stomach turn twice and I positioned myself to make a break for the bathroom as soon as the bell rang. I was second in line so I had a sporting chance to make it there before I embarrassed myself all over the floor. Justin Manley, the class jerk and first in line, noticed the urgency in my face and asked what was wrong. I told him and he spread his arms out in the doorframe so I couldn't get by. It was a stupid move on his part. Just when I realized it would be a struggle to get past him, my body let loose. I threw up all over his brand new first-day-of-school loafers and passed out. Three days later when my mother was certain that the phone advice nurse at Kaiser was wrong about me having the stomach flu, I saw a doctor who immediately had me rushed to the closest hospital to have my ruptured appendix removed. I was out of school for the entire month of September...and now, 16 years later, I still have a lovely 4-inch scar to commemorate the day I threw up on the biggest prick in my school...