Scars tell a story. Some stories are good, while others are bad. They all leave an everlasting mark as a reminder. I have many scars across my body and they all tell a very different story. These imperfections make life perfect.
My most noticeable scar is on the top of my head. Little wide eyed, chubby bellied Avery was just enjoying life to the best of my limited toddler ability. Running around, laughing, making messes, and playing with my pets. That last one caused the scar. I was going about my house and noticed my cat and dog “playing”. My little chubby self was interested of course and wandered over to join them. They were of course fighting not playing so when I had made my way over there my cat was just taking a strike on at my dog. His claw caught me just above the eye leaving a big bloody gash in my head. I was left in great pain and bawling my eyes out. My mother rushed in to comfort me. She took me into the doctor to get me stitched up, but the wound never fully healed.

One of my other scars is across my left eyebrow. I was getting warmed up for my soccer match. Everything was going just fine. Everything normal, warmed up shooting by rocketing some balls through the out extended hands of the keeper, defense by forcing the ball carrier to the sideline, like a shepherd getting his flock to the pens, and finishing up with some cross field sprints. We were packing up the balls as the game was set to begin and while I rushed to get the last ball, my friend pushed me from behind, so he could get it first, sending me face first into the post. I lost my vision momentarily and my eye immediately swelled shut. Blood was gushing from above my eye. I unsuccessfully tried to hide the injury from my coach but he saw it. He pulled me to the side and made me sit the bench. As a starter, that was extremely stressful for me to watch my team out there when I just had to sit the bench. He let me play the 2nd half, my bleeding still going on. We lost that game 4-2 and I couldn't help but feel responsible for the loss.

My final scar I will talk about is on the back of my knee. It is the biggest scar I have. With my down time I practice my jumping and often try to test and push my limits. I was simply warming with with a jump I had done dozens of times before, a simple 10 foot bench gap. It was a perfect spring day, cool, sun out, small breeze, just the perfect weather. Everything appeared to be perfect. I felt nothing could go wrong. I was quickly proven wrong. I lined myself up for the jump, got through my run up, leaped with all my force off the first bench, and prepared for my landing. Everything was going as smooth as ever. On the landing is when everything went wrong. My legs landed on opposite sides of the bench, bruising my left front knee and tearing up my back right knee on the splintered, battered wood. I immediately fell to the ground in pain, knee pouring blood like an overflowing, boiling pot. I went inside, pouring blood onto the floor with every step, as soon as I could. When I got to the bathroom to start cleaning the wound I only then noticed the immense size of the wound. It was like nothing I had ever seen to that point. After getting myself all patched up I went back outside so I could complete that jump. I completed it even though the pure pain coming from my bloodied knee.

This all matters because the marks are a constant reminder of the past. They show experiences and memories. While they may hurt in the moment the lasting memories remind of both good and bad times. These little imperfections make life perfect.