I wash my hands a lot. Says everyone. But really, I do. Well at work at least. So imagine my surprise, after having washed my hands for what could certainly have been the 10th time in two hours, at feeling the burn of a tiny cut on the back of my hand. How did that happen? Better yet, when? Somewhere between the final wash during deplaning and making it home sweet home, I’d nicked my hand. It obviously didn’t hurt when it happened, and apparently came from something completely ordinary, but the damage- albeit tiny and probably temporary- was done.

Oftentimes after a few days of working, I can almost certainly find a new bruise somewhere on my body. Usually doesn’t hurt unless I poke at it (which is what you’re supposed to do with mysterious bruises), and I can hardly ever account for when or how I got them; but something definitely hit me with enough force to leave a mark.

I think that’s how life works. Life’s lessons aren’t always big, bold, “it came to me in a dream” messages; rather they’re often pretty subtle and some even downright stealth. It’s like you’re going about life as usual and one day you notice something or someone has affected you in a way you’d almost never notice.

Sometimes you won’t even know you’ve been taught a lesson until you feel the light sting as you’re cleaning yourself up or taking a good look at your reflection in the mirror. And while you may never be able to account from where the scars or bruises came, you’ll notice they’re there and until they’re not, you’ll be a bit more cautious and a bit more aware of your actions with a subconscious desire to avoid that which has pained you.

Yet, just as soon as the sting of your cuts and tenderness of your bruises subside, so too does your quest for the source.

In the words of Ed Sheeran:

Pain is only relevant if it still hurts.’


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