Ear

My sister pierced my ear once.

In the cartlidge, about a third of the way up.

It wasn't my first piercing. It was my eighth. Also my last, I haven't been pierced since.

She used a big needle from mum's sewing supplies and a cork from a bottle of wine that was being drunk that evening. I don't remember if we used ice. I wouldn't be surprised if I decided to prove how tough I was by not needing it.

That was somewhere between fifteen and twenty years ago.

I don't often wear earrings in any of my piercings anymore. The holes are still there, I make sure they don't close up. Sometimes that means a little bit of pain as I push through the hole. But if I do, I'm most likely to wear an earring in that piercing.

It's a little connection to my sister. A link back to simpler times, when things weren't so laden with baggage. When we could sneak away from the family BBQ to commit a small act of rebellion.

I miss what we had back then. It will never be like that again, too much has happened in the intervening years.

I want to roll back the years, just for an afternoon. We can be young and carefree again. The two troublemakers of the family. Before we turned from scamps into real world problems with life altering consequences to our bad decisions. Before we lost our way.

I think it's too late to find out way back.