Tattooed Memories

This is the first time I have written about my tattoos.

I could say they are on me to embody the old adage: “a picture tells a thousands words,” thereby eliminating the need for written expression.

However, that would be trite and cliche. Two things which I am not. They are not so much a picture but an embodiment of my journey; a physical manifestation of pain I have felt, things I am passionate about, and a reminder that no matter what I do the world keeps moving.

No. Matter.What. Whether or not I’m successful at work, or if I screw up a relationship, or I total my truck, it’s all temporary. WhenI need stability in the midst of transition? All I need is a glance down at either of my fore-arms and I gaze upon a permanent reminder to stay in the moment and be grounded in principle. Additionally, these tattoos might just be the closest I get to “forever.”

On my left arm is my ode to home and my mother. The single queen who raised me in the virtues of love, patience and perseverance. The rose is a representation of our countless hours bonding and working together in the yard. It also shows the dedication and pride she had to maintaining a home to build a life for her three fierce loves: My brothers and I.

The hummingbird takes me back to childhood. Every year outside my bedroom window, I would look out to see a hummingbird nest twice a year. Once in spring, once in fall. Once I left for college, the hummingbirds moved to another tree in the yard, but stayed around, merrily buzzing and gracing is with their presence and accompanying mom and I with our coffee and cigarette on the porch...

And then I found her.

Not the day she died, but the day before. I found her stroked out on the couch in my childhood home. It tore me up. She had a stroke that immobilized her and plunged my brothers and I into unbearable anxiety; anticipating our mother taking her last breaths.

So instead of a “rip” or “in memorial” tat, I went for something that embodies the happiness and warmth and grace that she showed me. The softness and the ability to appreciate beauty of life, and furthermore the beauty of our yard. That it’s okay for a man to fee and express emotion, and see beauty in things. Loveliness. I wanted a representation I could look at daily, and give her a kiss if I so please.

This tattoo has been a source of strength. It’s helped me to be positive in the midst of darkness since losing her.

My first tattoo is also a reminder of her, because I got it when I owed her money. She was pissed, and I had a permanent expenditure on my arm. All I could do was shrug....and accept her verbal ass-whoopin.

It’s a pinup angel with a guitar, and a banner wrapped around her body that says “There’s a Fine Line Between Love and The Blues.”

I see both of these tattoos on my left arm, and I’m glad it’s my dominant arm in sports. I’m glad it’s my source of strength in remembrance of the person who gave me the most help and inspiration, but most of all, I’m pleased with the peace I feel when I see my tattoos. Of course, I would love to see and hug my momma again, but I’ll be damned if she ain’t with me every day. Every time I see a hummingbird, I know she’s just dropping by lovingly to make sure I toe the line :)