It’s Not Just a Tattoo…

I have no tattoo (surprise, surprise) and am not looking into getting one. You could say that I have gotten stuck more times than I would care to, so I am not going to do it voluntarily.

I have family members who have them, my younger sister being one. I could cry when I think of Sarah’s tattoo, which is slyly placed on the inside of her foot. It says “ubuntu” in my handwriting. She spent a semester teaching in Africa and got it when she got back. The word “ubuntu” is an African proverb that means “I am because you are.”

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It’s not even on my body, but that tattoo means so much to me. Let’s say Sarah and I didn’t get along as kids. I know what you are thinking, what siblings do as kids? Our arguments were worse. Please don’t judge me, but you could say that I purposely tormented my two siblings, believing it was my right. Sarah got the brunt of it. I feel awful now.

Whenever I see that tattoo there is a mixture of guilt and extreme love for my middle sister.

But she now thinks it’s her right to take trips “browsing” in my closet, maybe as payback. I suppose I owe her that much.

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