No more mystery puddles?!
La marmotte finds her love again

My Chicken Pox Scar

Most nights I lay in bed thinking about the day I just lived and feeling grateful for my life.  I drape my arm across my husband's chest and listen to his steady breathing, he's been asleep for several hours now.  It's at this time in the wee hours of the morning when they come to me. Deep memories I haven't thought about in so very long. 

Last night, as I layed in bed thinking about my day  I was suddenly taken back to 1981 or 1982, I can't be sure of the year but with some research into some old photos I will soon know the exact year. Anyway, I was taken back to my parent's bathroom in our old house at 1509 Concord Drive.  His and her sinks. Big bright mirror. My mother's cosmetics neatly arranged around the sink. Her gold curling iron.  I remember always looking at her gold curling iron, admiring it because it was so pretty.  I was wearing my red corduroy sailor dress and had just gotten over a spell of the chicken pox. It was picture day at school. I was in Kindergarten. Mrs. Reinhold's class. This day my mother decided to curl my hair like a big girl, she said.  I remember her showing me on the gold curling iron to watch the brown dot and to tell her when it had turned red because that meant it was hot. I sneaked peeks at her as she brushed her hair.  I remember my mother curling my hair from back to front and I felt like a princess. And then I picked the last scab on my nose left from the chicken pox.  My mom yelled. Well, more like she yelped.  Asked me why I did that?  I don't know why I did that I just did. It was there and I pulled it off. I remember looking at it and pulling it off. It hurt. And bled. And left a scar. A scar that I still have today. 

These moments when these memories come to me are the moments that I look most forward to these days.