Swapping stories
The tension seemed high. I can't speak for my mother or sister but I had to turn away for a split second. I couldn't look. Even the girl who was executing the task was on edge, her hands shook as she held the needle.
Of course, the one person who was as cool as a cucumber was my seven-year-old niece. Sitting in the tall barstool outside of the Claire's boutique in the Santa Fe mall, she made not a peep as the first earring was inserted into her earlobe. In flash, her earlobe went from being bare to being decorated with a sparkly daisy earring. Mairen beamed. "Not one tear," she whispered to us.
Getting your ears pierced may not seem like a huge deal to everyone - some people have it done when they are toddlers while others have rings and studs and chains protruding not just from their ears but everywhere on their faces. However, I would argue that it is a big deal. Of course no two people do things alike but there are certain experiences that people share. We can swap stories about getting the first driver's license or being sick with the chicken pox. These stories draw us closer together. Now my niece has one such story. The story of when she got her ears pierced.
I remember my story - it is not nearly as admirable as my niece's. I cried like a baby when the first metal stub was pierced through my earlobe. The appointment almost ended right there but the poor woman was permitted to do the second ear. Of course after that my earlobes itched and I would scratch them and make the holes bleed. When they didn't itch, my earlobes would weep a horrible, messy liquid that would then dry and flake off. And the whole process would start again. Turns out it was the metal from my earrings that was irritating my ears and I was instructed to stick with sterling silver.
While my niece's story of her ears getting pierced is a testament to her fearlessness and enthusiasm for every new experience, mine is just another example of my long-held resistance to take my life down the well-traveled road. It will always be the bumpy, rugged road that takes twice as long for me.
But see - even though the stories are different my niece and I, together with my sister and mother, are tied a little closer together. We've all been through common event and we all have a story to share.
Of course, the one person who was as cool as a cucumber was my seven-year-old niece. Sitting in the tall barstool outside of the Claire's boutique in the Santa Fe mall, she made not a peep as the first earring was inserted into her earlobe. In flash, her earlobe went from being bare to being decorated with a sparkly daisy earring. Mairen beamed. "Not one tear," she whispered to us.
Getting your ears pierced may not seem like a huge deal to everyone - some people have it done when they are toddlers while others have rings and studs and chains protruding not just from their ears but everywhere on their faces. However, I would argue that it is a big deal. Of course no two people do things alike but there are certain experiences that people share. We can swap stories about getting the first driver's license or being sick with the chicken pox. These stories draw us closer together. Now my niece has one such story. The story of when she got her ears pierced.
I remember my story - it is not nearly as admirable as my niece's. I cried like a baby when the first metal stub was pierced through my earlobe. The appointment almost ended right there but the poor woman was permitted to do the second ear. Of course after that my earlobes itched and I would scratch them and make the holes bleed. When they didn't itch, my earlobes would weep a horrible, messy liquid that would then dry and flake off. And the whole process would start again. Turns out it was the metal from my earrings that was irritating my ears and I was instructed to stick with sterling silver.
While my niece's story of her ears getting pierced is a testament to her fearlessness and enthusiasm for every new experience, mine is just another example of my long-held resistance to take my life down the well-traveled road. It will always be the bumpy, rugged road that takes twice as long for me.
But see - even though the stories are different my niece and I, together with my sister and mother, are tied a little closer together. We've all been through common event and we all have a story to share.
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