Dad and I have the same scars,
The Lincoln Monument is surrounded by smooth marble. Dad and his college friends used it like a slip-and-slide. Dad slid straight into Lincoln’s foot.
They built a new shed behind the preschool. We decided it was chock-full of ghosts and ran circles around it. We screamed gleefully until I collided with another boy named William. His skull was thicker than mine.
Neither Dad nor Grandpa can remember what happened. Maybe it was from the time Dad went for a breakaway layup. Stacy tripped him and broke his front tooth.
I was playing croquet in the back yard with my neighbor. He swung the club wildly and it slipped from his hands. I was standing twenty yards away, but the club cart-wheeled across the lawn, turning end over end.
Some bully threw Dad’s slingshot over a fence. Dad tried to get it back but the fence was sharp at the top.
Dad was playing with an old diving mask at Turtle Point. The tightening mechanism was an old metal screw.
I had a glass mug in my mouth. I was pretending to be a dog. I couldn’t help but laugh and the mug fell from my mouth and shattered on the floor. Dad told me that he had scars above his eye, on his chin, and in the palm of his hand. In the emergency room I hoped for stitches. They used a special medical adhesive that meant there wouldn’t be scarring. I was really disappointed.
if it weren’t for the special medical adhesive.