I love to cook for groups but I don't get the opportunity to do it very often. This weekend, I offered to make sauce and bring the entree to my sister's house for dinner. Well, I had a little accident while frying up the eggplant and burned my hand. 

It didn't hurt that bad when it happened. It was a hot peanut oil splash that landed on my right hand, slightly above my wrist, but over the last few days it's been mutating. First, it bubbled up into this giant blister, which subsequently popped, then refilled, then drained. It's been very gross. 

Anyway, I was sitting her thinking about what I wanted to write about this morning and my burn came to mind. I haven't been keeping covered because I think it will heal faster that way and I find people noticing it much more often than I do. I'll be talking with my hand flailing about and get interrupted with "ewwww, what did you do to yourself?"

I mention it here because I've been noticing how some emotional wounds that I've kept uncovered have also started to fade away. It hasn't been dramatic. Just a slow change of tolerance where the old feelings used to be. It may still look ugly when I look directly at it but I am not consumed by the pain. 

There is power in seeing how the wound is mutating. Changing shapes and colors and ultimately changing me.