That Small Round Scar on Your Upper Arm Might Be Carrying a Piece of History
I never paid much attention to it growing up.
A small round scar on my mother’s upper arm—faint, circular, easy to overlook. It sat there like any other old mark, part of the background of childhood. Familiar enough that I stopped noticing it.
Years later, in a completely unrelated moment, I saw that same scar again.
I was helping an older woman step down from a train when her sleeve shifted slightly. There it was—same place, same distinct shape. Small, round, unmistakable.