Ink. An artistic expression that has been passed down through the ages. In some older civilizations, it marked the battles you had survived. For my friend Brooke, I feel like this tattoo was that for her. It’s a reflection of a very personal experience that I will not share here for it isn’t my story to tell. I found out about this tattoo during happy hour after work one day in December. The story is sad, uplifting, courageous and exhausting. And in retrospect, that was only half of the story.
So when Brooke casually mentioned after a birthday lunch for her that she was going to get her tat finished/touched up, I knew I wanted to go.
At first glance Brooke is deceiving. A tall, gorgeous, skinny, blond, you would think she belonged on the Real World or that one beach show that’s out now. But after getting to know her a bit more, she belongs probably more on Survivor (though I’ve never actually seen any of those shows). Brooke is a coworker of mine, but as I have gotten to know her and we have shared some of our stories, I realize she is a Tae Kwon Do bad ass that I hope to call my friend. Her emotional depth and verbal eloquence (she is one of my copy writers after all 🙂 ) was such a pleasant surprise. I learned more of her story even after this experience and her amazingness was cemented in my mind.
I appreciate that she let me join her on this inky experience that touched her physical and subtle bodies, bringing corporeal and emotional pain. Flying across her ribs, she took it like a champ.