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.”


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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