My knees

To ensure that one doesn't develop a "wound tattoo", it is important that an abrasion be cleansed thoroughly of dirt particles.

I learn this from a textbook. A textbook propped against my knees. My eyes go from text to patella, from theory to application in a glance.

Search out a child. One who is quick to laugh and squirrelly in movement. They are not hard to find. Examine the knees. They will be blemished. Patterned by previous trips, skins and scrapes. They are a sign of time well spent.

I examine the fading markings upon my own knees, and hear the brisk brrrring of the recess bell, remember squeezing through the narrow alleyway between portables, and feel the cool relief of the water fountain upon my monkey-bar blistered palms.

My knees tell of reckless play, of epic schoolyard battles! Of risking, of taking risks, of ignoring risks, in the pursuit of fun. I'm very proud of my knees.