I'm so proud of the middle finger on my right hand. I burned it on a hot pan last week, and it hurt so much, I thought I might faint.
It was one of those deep burns, several degrees burned, I'm sure. I'm not sure how many degrees though. A doctor would know, or a nurse, but I never asked one. I just looked at my finger 20 times a day and said ow, ow, ow.
And I never once told it I was sorry.
My finger just quietly did its job, though, without complaining. It didn't pretend it couldn't function. It didn't call in sick. It kept working, typing, doing dishes, and helping all the other fingers do their jobs.
Then it just started regrowing skin. It looked horrible for a while, turned a bit yellow and oozy, and it scared a few children, but that didn't stop it from growing a little bit of new skin every day.
Now there's just a small, red mark where the gaping, painful wound used to be. I'd say by Friday, I won't even be able to see where the burn was. And soon I'll forget the memory of the pain. And I know my finger will never mention it.
So I'd like to publicly thank my finger, for doing such a miraculous thing so humbly and graciously, without complaining or reminding me how stupid I was to touch a hot pan.
I wish I could be more like my finger.
***By the way, this is a picture of hand soap! I found it here.