She was eight years old, our first day of grade three when she got called ugly. We both got moved to the back of class so we would stop getting bombarded by spitballs. But the school halls were a battleground. We found ourselves outnumbered day after wretched day. We used to stay inside for recess, because outside was worse. Outside, wed have to rehearse running away, or learn to stay still like statues, giving no clues that we were there. In grade five, they taped a sign to the front of her desk that read, Beware of dog. To this day, despite a loving husband, she doesnt think shes beautiful because of a birthmark that takes up a little less than half her face. Kids used to say, She looks like a wrong answer that someone tried to erase, but couldnt quite get the job done. And theyll never understand that shes raising two kids whose definition of beauty begins with the word Mom, because they see her heart before they see her skin, because shes only ever always been amazing. He, was a broken branch grafted onto a different family tree. https://youtube/watch?v=Ii6L_Aux9RU
Posted on: Sat, 16 Aug 2014 22:36:00 +0000
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