RTW: The scars remind me

Each week, YA Highway hosts Road Trip Wednesday, a blog carnival in which YA Highwayers discuss a topic on their blogs and invite readers to do the same. This week's RTW topic is:

What is the story of your best scar?

While my favorite scar is not, in fact, the perfect map of the London Underground (and let me tell you, I didn't realize how handy a scar like this might actually be until I traveled on the London Underground!), it comes with a funny story:

Growing up, my brother and I fought a lot. Sometimes playfighting, sometimes bickering, sometimes kinda-play-fighting-but-not-really, sometimes full-on brawl mode.

Occasionally, I did something to make Bro mad enough to chase me. I knew he'd never actually hurt me, but just because he wouldn't hit me didn't mean he wouldn't find other ways to torture me if I was caught.

So I was 15, Bro was 12, and I did something to make him mad enough to chase me. We were having a cookout, it was toward the end of summer, and I ran and ran, laughing, bobbing, and weaving around the yard.

I jumped on a small plastic lawn table instead of jumping over it and BAM! It slipped out from under me. I hit the underside of the sharp plastic, renting a 6 inch gash across the right side of my left knee. For some reason it didn't occur to me that I was, hello, actually hurt, so I continue laughing as I army-crawled away, dragging my bleeding knee through the dirt and grass. Finally I realized my brother wasn't chasing me anymore. And oh yeah, oops — there was blood all over my knee.

You might not be able to tell in pictures, but anyone who has met me in person can attest that I am so pale I'm almost translucent, making scars very noticeable on my skin. But between owning feisty cats my whole life, being incredibly clumsy, and being comfortable with my paleness, scars don't really bother me.

This one, though? It looked horrible. It was bright red, wrapping from my knee cap to almost behind my knee. To make matters worse, I have a tendency to pick my wounds, meaning it took forever to heal and scarred awful. My knee looked like an amateur slasher got a hold of it.

Eleven years later, my best scar has faded to a 2 inch, slightly raised line, but the memory of that afternoon will stay with me far longer than the mark on my skin. In my mind, it has come to represent the 'fun' fights my brother and I had, the ones that were annoying but somehow ended with both of us grinning.

So, what's the story of your favorite scar? Tell me in the comments or join us on our Road Trip!