Friday, December 30, 2016

HOLIDAY SCARS

We were at our annual holiday visit at my sister's house. All of us were gathered around her kitchen island, when my sister looked over at my wrist and noticed a red burn.
“How'd you get that one?” she asked.
I held it out proudly so she could get a better look. “Christmas morning, cooking bacon.”
My sister pulled up the sleeve of her shirt, showing me several welts on her forearm. “Frying calamari for Christmas Eve dinner.”
I leaned in to get a closer look. “Okay, I have to admit, yours looks worse than mine.”
My sister smiled as she pulled the sleeve down. “I didn't pat the calamari completely dry before I put it in the oil.”
“That's a painful lesson learned.” I said as I casually pulled up my own sleeve to show off my old holiday scars. “Remember the years of cookie baking?” I pointed to the fading red lines on my forearm. “I got caught three years in a row with the oven rack.”
By now our boys had grown bored with our conversation. They filled their plates with food and headed for the game room.
That left my sister and her husband and Steven and I. My sister was examining her hand. “You can’t see it anymore, but remember the year I made a Christmas goose?”
Steven leaned back and smiled. “That was the best goose I ever ate!”
My sister smiled. “Thank you!” She gave up looking for the scar. “I had a burn on my hand for years, from the drippings overflowing when I was taking the pan out of the oven.”
“I remember that one.” I shuttered at the memory. “You ate dinner with a cold cloth wrapped around your hand.”
It was my turn again as I showed her my knuckle. “See this little crescent shaped scar?”
She leaned forward to get a better look. “It's pretty faint.”
“Thank you!” Steven called out.
Everyone looked over at Steven, but I jumped in to explain first. “That was from the can opener disaster.” I said. “I was opening a can of cranberry sauce when the lid cut open my knuckle.” I rubbed the spot of my old wound. “I really should have gone to get stitches but we had a house full of guests.”
Steven jumped in. “It wasn't as bad as you thought. All I did was put a butterfly bandage on it and you were back at the dining room table in two minutes.”
We'd all gotten quite for a moment. Then my sister looked over at me. “Are we that accident prone?” she asked.
“No!” I was shocked she'd even suggest such a thing. “We love to cook and accidents just happen sometimes!”
Steven leaned over to my brother-in-law. “But, just to be on the safe side, I got her a can opener that doesn't leave any sharp edges.”

My brother-in-law nodded in agreement. “Smart move.” he said looking at my sister. “I'll be picking up one of those for you tomorrow.”

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