Scars and Parkinson's

I have a scar on my right knee.  I got it when I was 6 or 7 years old; my brother and I were flying kites in an empty lot and of course, I was focused completely on the kite.  I didn't notice the rock until I tripped over it and landed on my knee on a piece of broken glass.  There were tears, some stinging disinfectant  and a bandaid, but when I look at that scar, that's not what I remember.  I remember how it was to be a child, running effortlessly into the wind, my soul flying with my kite, the grass so green and the sky so blue that it looked like a painting in one of my books.  I remember the magic in the summer air, and the future stretching out to an infinite horizon.  The little scar on my knee makes it all real again, and I'm glad that I have it to remind me what it was like to be so young and free.

Maybe someday Parkinson's will be that way.  Maybe someday it will be gone, and all that's left will be scars in my memory.  The scars will remind me not of the bad things, but of the good people I have met, the challenges I have faced and the victories I have won.  Maybe I need to look around and find a kite to fly...