I have a very faint scar on my left elbow. When I was about 7 years old I was an insane daredevil. I would climb any tree, fence, rock, you name it. I used to stand on our 2nd floor balcony and fantasize about being able to swing off it and land on my feet in the grass below. I was convinced if the cat could do it I should be able to too. Luckily my parents kept a close eye on me and so I didn't ever get the chance to try it out.
My bike was a different story. Mum and Dad would allow me to go all the way around the block all day if I wanted to, without them having to come with me. Our block came complete with speed bumps... which for me and my buddies meant a launching pad. One time mum and dad were out and our cousin was babysitting. She let me go out to ride my bike and hit speeds previously not attained (by me). I hit one of the speed bumps on the corner and was airborne... except my body and bike decided to go in opposite directions. I went flying about 6 feet and hit the pavement elbows first. Both elbows and both knees got scraped up beyond recognition and I had crazy scabs for weeks afterward. My cousin heard my screams from all the way down the street and came running... she tried to patch me up the best she could but I'm sure I didn't make it easy on her, it hurt so bad.
Ever since then I've been more subdued. I'd still ride my bike, but wouldn't push so hard to fly. I'm sure there's a metaphor in there somewhere and I'm sure I have gone about things in the wrong manner, but it's been over 20 years and I still have the scar. It may be teeny, it may be faded, and at times I think it's finally gone away, but it's still there as a reminder to me that it's ok to dream, but sometimes it's important to stay rooted as well.
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