Childhood wants

I wanted to write this yesterday and didn’t have time so I will today. What tattoo do you want and where would you put it? I do not want any tattoos, however many years ago I was singing a different tune. Picture a 15 year old little girl sitting down on her older brother’s couch as he placed the pattern on her shoulder blade. I had chosen a butterfly colored in with a rebel flag. My brother explained the process and how it would permanent and would hurt a little. I assured him I was confident in my choices and would be just fine. The buzz of the gun scared me but I put on a brave face, determined not to cry, not even a little. How bad could it hurt, right? It’s just a needle. Just before the ink touched my skin, my mom walked through the door putting a halt to the would be tattoo. 

Unfortunately, my brother died a few years later in a car accident. I often think back to those days and  wonder if I should have tried again. Then I would have his essence permanently etched into my skin. A tiny memento to view anytime I wanted. Instead I am left with a bittersweet memory of what could have been.

I no longer want a tattoo as the childish whim has now passed. But, I often think back to that day and wonder if I would have had any regrets today if my mother hadn’t stopped the show. I did end up marrying a man named Rebel, so the color of the butterfly would have been ironic to say the least. Would I still like it today? Would I have chosen to cover it up by now or cherish my brother’s art work? Would I look at it with joy or distaste? I guess I will never know. Instead I have an almost tattoo sketched into my mind of yesterday’s time.  A memory I will always hold dear.