It’s funny how much time changes things.
When we are born we are perfect, beautiful, unblemished; created this way by nature and our parents. Little by little that perfection is chipped at, eroded away. Scars, tattoos, piercings, drugs, alcohol…little by little they all take their toll on our bodies till we our sagged and puffy flesh barely resembles the child that once was. A vibrant new blossom is so colorful and beautiful when first clipped from it’s stem but quickly it withers, fades, then shrivels into nothingness.
Should I be saddened by this fragility that is our shared predicament, that eventually all that is beautiful must fade?
Certainly there is some appreciation to be found in the complexity of scar. Each little scar here and there is a record of a moment in time. Skinning the knee while you dad teaches you to ride a bike. Cutting your lip on your braces that you so abhorred. Bumping your head on that date where you met your true love. Yes, these scars have their own beauty. Perhaps it’s all just a little bit of payment here and there for the wisdom you eventually accumulate.