Frisbee Wednesday almost snuck completely past me. Where did the week go? We have been in a family crisis whose focus keeps shifting from humans to dogs and back again.
My family, his family, both families … all interwoven with dogs, old, sick, well, young. Without going into details, it has been very difficult for both of us, but especially rough for Garry who shows the pain less, but feels it more.
Meanwhile, the Daily Prompt came up with a suggestion we talk about tattoos. And why not? I’ve got one. It’s even relevant, packed with subtext and meaning. Amidst all the emotional and actual mayhem of life …
I got my tattoo when I was 55. Definitely a late starter. It took me years to figure out what I wanted, then years to find someone I trusted to do it.
A tattoo isn’t a casual thing. Once you’ve got it, it’s got you, too. Unless you go to heroic lengths to rid yourself of it, it’s as much a part of you as … well … your skin.
I’d been vibrating to the phoenix for a long time. Having had my world collapse a few times and arise from its ashes, I figured it fit. I have phoenix earrings, pendants, and pins. What I didn’t have, was a phoenix as part of me. The younger generation were seriously into “body art” and dragooned me. It wasn’t hard to get me to join since I’d been thinking about it anyway.
My husband was amused, but not buying into the event. His skin would remain pristine. No tattoos, no piercings. He got through the Marine Corps unscathed. He wasn’t giving in now. Garry has a will — more accurately — a won’t — of iron.
I knew what I wanted in general, but needed a design. The tattoo guy and I created a design based on a variety of Phoenix patterns he and I found online and in books. Which make it a one-of-a-kind design. When he sketched it on my left calf, I was surprised it was so big. It covers my entire calf. I had something more petite in mind.
Well, in for a penny, in for a pound so. I did it.
When this prompt showed up in this morning’s email, I was delighted. Here is something I could relate to. Then I thought about it.
Taking photographs of the back of one’s left calf is not easy. Not only is the angle difficult, involving significant twisting of your torso into interesting configurations, but unless one is a lot taller than I am, it’s hard to get it in focus — I didn’t, but came close. Software did the rest.
Finally, it came together. My tattoo, in honor of surviving life crises and a brave hope for times to come. A phoenix engulfed in flame.
Phoenix doesn’t have quite enough flames. I always wanted to add more fire. Life got in the way, and now, I never will. My phoenix is happy. Long may he reign.