Been a long time since I've needed a Band-Aid.
But I was suddenly hit by the memory of a very specific time I needed one.

I was younger playing cards with my brother and sister.
I think it was cards.
I remember my hands were full.
I don't remember the exact game. Was it cards.

My leg itched,
the inside of my right thigh.
I had shorts on. It was summer.

Since my hands were full of, I think, cards, I scratched the itch with my forearm.

But instant sharpness instead of scratcher's relief came upon me.

A small piece of broken glass was lightly stuck to my forearm.

A drinking glass had been broken earlier, but we all assumed it had been swept appropriately.

It of course had not.

My forearm brushed sharp glass against my thigh. It was a small cut, but it bled a lot.

We stopped playing, was it cards?, and my older sister rushed me to the bathroom and cleaned the wound.

She applied a Band-Aid.

I still have a unique scar on my thigh, lightly raised, a little higher than any other scar I have.

But I remember when I pulled the Band-Aid off, there was a gummy rectangle of where the Band-Aid was, and there, like a portrait or a painting, was my tiny wound, framed by the leftover marks of the Band-Aid.

I had a wound, but it had a frame.

02/07/2008

Posted on 02/07/2008
Copyright © 2025 David Garner