"Mummy do you have a tribal mark?" My four year old son, Jake asked me making me laugh as I have been asked that question so many times that I lost count. I was on the couch while he was on his tall chair looking so intently at my face.
"No baby. It's a scar. I got it while playing rough. This is why I tell you to play gently" I told him.
"Ohh I'll not play rough again mummy " He said tiptoeing to kiss the scar on my cheek and I smiled in satisfaction. I wouldn't trade him for anything in the world.
"That's my cute baby. Now go play with Cecilia in the playhouse" I told him. He smiled in reply and skipped out the door. He liked her. He might not have realized it though. What was I saying? He's four for goodness sake so he obviously doesn't know yet.
The memory of my scar brought a smile to my face.That day my parents threatened to disown me, not like I would blame them , because I refused to follow through with the course they chose for me, Law. I had secretly changed my...