Pieces of You

I realize it’s been a while since I’ve posted.  But I haven’t felt like writing—or doing much of anything for that matter—in a while.

One thing I have done in the past year is get two tattoos—one on my foot and the other on my wrist.

So when one of my students asked me, “Are you against tattoos?” I at first thought he was being sarcastic.   

But he assured me he was sincere.  He was considering getting something on the inner side of his forearm, and people were telling him not to, that it was “trashy.”  So he wanted to know if I judged people by their tattoos. 

I told my student that if he was that concerned about what others thought, if he was worried it would impede him in advancing in his future profession, to get it in a place he could cover it up, as most white collar jobs require long sleeve shirts and pants.  Our conversation pretty much ended there, but my thoughts continued. 

Although getting a tattoo has become quite trendy, back in college, many of my sorority sisters got our letters and/or symbols tattooed on their ankles. 

I considered it.  But I didn’t. 

And speaking for myself, I’m glad I didn’t.  My sorority meant a lot to me, but I don’t know if I’d want my letters, or an anchor, or a rose, or a teddy bear on my body in this season of my life. 

After all the boys were born, I played with the idea of getting three butterflies tattooed on my ankle to symbolize the boys.  But I just couldn’t decide on the “right” design, the “right” size, the “right” placement, etc.

But on the morning of March 25, 2016, after my sister had called and told me Daddy was gone, and as I made the hour and half drive blurred by tears to the hospital, I knew what was right.

I love the tattoo on my foot; it’s a constant reminder of the loves and losses of my life—my babies and my daddy.  And one day I’ll add a hummingbird, by request, for my mother. 

My daddy is my only daddy.  My mother is my only mother.  They made me who I am.

My three boys (and the baby I lost) are the only babies I’ll ever have.  They are precious to me.  They are part of me.

I cannot imagine a season in my life where I would ever not want these images reminding me of these special people and their love for me and mine for them.

So judge me by my tattoos—please. 

Pieces of You--Jewel