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  • Writer's pictureRachelle Jervis

Day 321

Updated: Jun 26, 2019



Almost immediately after Constance passed, I thought I might want to have her fingerprint tattooed over my heart. At the time I decided that I would wait to make a decision. I don’t want to leap into an action that I might later want to change. What if a month later I wanted her name instead of her fingerprint or I decided I wanted the tattoo on my wrist instead of over my heart? I’d never gotten a tattoo before and wanted time to be certain of what I wanted.


Years ago I went with a partner to a tattoo parlor. He told me he was going to get my name tattooed on him as a present to me. He chickened out explaining that he needed more time to consider the font. Apparently, he’s still contemplating if he’s more an Ariel or Times New Roman kind of a guy. I didn’t offer to get his name on my body.


Yesterday I was at the gym, and I noticed a woman whose back was covered in splendidly tattooed art. I was changing at the same time. I looked down at my cesarean scar from Constance’s birth and thought, ‘I’m glad I have this. It’s wonderful. It couldn’t be improved by embellishing it with ink.’ The scar reminds me of the day I met Constance. It evokes the wondrous eight years we had together. It prompts memories of what a great kid she was. It reminds me of her effervescent love of life. It is my favorite part of my body; It reminds me of her.

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