The Beauty of Scars
I have worried too much in my life, even about little things such as scars. As ridiculously vain as it may sound, the imperfections of scars annoyed me, for they told the secrets of my less-than-graceful moments.
At the end of my sophomore year of college I shattered my patella while horseback riding. The orthopedist offered me a choice: surgery or take my chances with casting. The former choice, he added, would leave a visible scar. I found myself in the casting room moments later. Why? Because scars scared me. That changed one day when my perspective shifted through the words of a dear friend.
Kimi was one of my roommates in an apartment of four …