Scars can be a physical blemish, a marring (mar is a verb not a noun) of the heart, or possibly a combination of both. Scars take on many forms and can affect the bearer in ways as unique as themselves.
I personally have many scars; living on a ranch, scars come frequently. Honestly I cannot remember how I got 90 percent of them. My favorite scar is physical, but it is also a part of me emotionally as well. You could say it defines me and my passion.
This blemish can be found on my right hand on the lower portion of my thumb and it extends through the web. It is nothing horrific. Because in the summer my scar gets dark and looks like a smudge of dirt, someone might think that I never wash my hand (but that’s not the case). Through the winter, it fades to be almost unnoticeable. As spring goes to summer, the scar is redefined.
It was caused by a burn. A rope burn, multiple times, again and again. The scar was caused by being a little daring in the branding pen, or not quite being in position in the pasture doctoring in the hills. But more than anything else, it came from the repetition of pulling my slack and coiling my rope. Over and over and over again. Striving to perfect the loop, becoming faster with each run, live cattle or on the dummy, I caused this scar.
Some people wish for their scars to disappear or go away. I never want this scar to go away. If it does, then my dreams have also evaporated. If I allow myself to lose this scar, then I have lost a bit of my soul. In a way this mark defines me as a person. Hard working, determined, working to achieve my goals, that’s who I am now. I get that sometimes people change, that they grow and develop but I hope to never lose that crucial part of myself. Out of all of my scars, this is definitely my favorite. It accents who I am, a type of definition, if you will. This scar is physical, yet it represents something bigger.
Scars are a road map of someone’s life. Rarely do you see someone who doesn’t have a scar in some way, shape, or form. Often times I see old cowboys that are all weathered and scarred, I wonder what has happened in order for them to look like that. I don't see that as a bad thing, but what have they experienced in life.
I know a lot of girls my age who are embarrassed by their scars, think they are unattractive. I think otherwise. Maybe that is because of the way I have grown up. Being raised on a ranch, you see all sorts of accidents happen, things that turn into scars, things that tell good stories. Scars are accepted where I come from and that is why I accept them as something to be proud of, not some humiliating blemish.
