My mamma speaks of the time when I was a four year old. One day, I jumped on one side of an empty refrigerator stand, and the other side came and hit me on my face. The stand was made of iron and I hurt my eyebrow bad. I went about playing until the blood started clouding my vision and staining the floor. It was then that my aunt looked out of the window and screamed out of fear and surprise. It was her scream that scared me. I started crying as well, rubbing all that blood from my slit eyebrows all over my face.
It hurt bad. The doc gave me 6 stitches to get my brow back in shape. I still have them right there.
After the stitches, mamma says that I would play around all day and occasionally weep with the pain from the stitches. I will sing, laugh, run and fight, and then cry some as well. It was funny, watching me hop around with a huge bandage on one eye, it was also heart rending for her. I was all of four years old when that happened.
Mamma, nothing much has changed. The pain now, is not from the stitches anymore. They tell me that these wounds can't be stitched. I meet my days everyday with a smile. I laugh, I play, I dance. And when I am reminded of her, I cry some too.