“Daddy, why does your face have silver stripes?”
He touched his fingertips to his cheek. “I had an accident when I was younger, and these are my scars. Our scars tell our stories.”
She lifted her small hand and traced the biggest line down his face from eye to mouth. “How do they tell our stories?”
“Well they tell us about human resilience. About how we can become stronger. About how we can survive scary things.”
“They’re like mummy’s vase!”
He thought of the grey vase with the now golden cracks. “Yes, exactly!”
“I’m glad they mended you.”
“Me too.”
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