Sunday Scribblings: Skin

"You need to have a thick skin, like your sister. Why can't you be more like her?"

When I think of my mom's mom, that's all I hear. It's been at least six years since those words physically left her lips. But I hear them all the time.

It's strange how people form attachments to relatives. I loved my mom's mom. Not that I don't love my dad's mom too. But the heart pulls favorites. Whether we're looking for them or not. My sister lived for the times she spent with our paternal grandparents. She'd be visiting on the exact weekend they were going into the North End to do their shopping. Every time. Me, we'd hit the Purity Supreme across the field. Still it was fun. But not my sister's full bodied fun.

I, on the other hand, loved to visit my mom's parents. Nana was forever trying to teach me to sew a straight seam. I still can't. But my sister is an expert seamstress. She can sew anything she dreams about. My sister can also knit and crochet. Never dropping a stitch or having to read a pattern twice; not me. I'm just starting to figure out what all those odd symbols in a pattern mean. Despite sharing a domestic green thumb, my sister didn't appreciate Nana. I never understood why. Even in death, and me lacking in home economic graces, I love her deeply.

Nana seemed to relish the fact that my sister never lets anyone get the last word. She is quick thinking, and no one ever takes advantage of her. So I can understand why she held my sister up as a shining example for me to follow. She wanted me tephlon tough. She didn't want me to get hurt. Such love.

But still, I wonder. Was Nana right? I tend to forget those disturbances that happen in relationships. There isn't enough space in my brain to keep track of all that stuff. My sister never forgets. She remembers every fault, every hurt, every anything that comes her way. Her backbone is fortified with them. Her tongue honed.

Despite her thick skin, I know she gets hurt. I've seen it in her eyes and heard it in her voice. But I wonder if her thick outer cover prevents her from healing. Acting like a scab that holds in the infection.

So is having a thick skin truly worth it? I probably will never know. Instead, I'll live out my life, smiling through my thin skin. Shedding the hurt, and looking to each day as a new beginning.