I have a hidden scar on the back of my head.
When I was 3 years old, in the Summer of 2008, I was on holiday in Albania, staying at my Nana's house, with my Mum and Dad. One afternoon I was playing on a plastic ride on truck and was pushing myself along with my legs, up and down the concrete patio under the grape vine canopy, when I fell off backwards and hit the back of my head on some broken bricks surrounding the flower beds. I cut my head open and it was bleeding a lot so I had to go to the local hospital where it was stitched up.
My scar is a part of me and it reminds me of my Daddy, who was from Albania. It connects me to him. He had a big scar on his head from when he had surgery to remove a cancerous brain tumour.
My Daddy died not long before my fourth birthday and I will always miss him.
When I feel sad I look through the memory box and the photo book that Mum and I have made.
My scar reminds me of my Daddy.