Nanopoblano Blogging Challenge Prompt #42: Tell the story of one of your scars.
I am assuming we are talking about physical scars here. 🙂
I was about one year old, as the story goes. This was back in 1959, when nothing about child-rearing was even remotely safe. My mom had some kind of baby seat rigged up on the back of her bicycle. It had no protection for baby’s tender feet, and sure enough, I jammed my right heel in the spokes. I’m sure glad I don’t remember it.
The back of my heel and part of its sole were torn off. Now that I am a mom myself, I can’t even imagine the guilt I would have felt about this. My poor mom.
There were concerns that I would have trouble walking normally and that I was at risk for delays. This was the heyday of Dr. Spock and parents knew that their offspring had to complete milestones in sequence or run the risk of being dysfunctional adults. Since I had to be immobilized while it healed, I was not able to pass through the age-appropriate phase of mastering walking until I was older.
Who knows? Maybe that is why I became so danged independent. Can you imagine the frustration of a one-year-old, just beginning to walk, being restrained from doing so? The hollering and screaming that probably went on?
Once I was set loose, that was it. Just try and hold me back. Still that way. 🙂