The Scar

When I was five years old, I stepped barefoot on a water glass lying on the floor of my Grandparent's bathroom and put a deep, three inch slice in the side of my foot. As I laid on the living room sofa, all the adults talked at once about taking me to the hospital for stitches. I wanted no part of stitches, whatever those were. Amidst the chatter, I looked at my Grandpa and he looked at me. He stepped forward and said, "Chris decides." All the adults stopped talking and turned to me. To this day, I revere the scar.