A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS

When I arrived home I checked the photos out. Ever after from the time of being shot, Gordon was always photographed from the right side because of the deep scar under his left eye (the entry point of the bullet). Anyone who knows about bullet wounds knows that the damage becomes greater as a bullet travels through flesh, striking bone, expanding and fragmenting as it goes. The photo was a 3/4 view. One of the copies was an enlargement of Gordon’s face. You could just make out the indentation under his left eye. You could see where the right side of his face had been blown out. There was an area from his right cheekbone down to his jaw and back to his ear that had seen better days. Then something caught my eye, a line that started at mid-ear and zigzagged across his cheek, almost like a lightning streak.

I walked into the bathroom and stood before the mirror, photo in hand. I remembered my friend Maria doing the double take; now it was my turn. On the right side of my face starting at mid-ear is a scar, light but discernible. It moves across my cheek in a zigzag pattern. Under my left eye there is an area about the size of a quarter, indented a little with a jagged line outlining most of it. I looked at the photo again and did a second double take. The mark on the left side of my face was in the same place as the entry wound under Gordon’s eye. I was not only receiving confirmation of a past life; I was being beaten over the head with it.