Something He
Could See Himself In
by Grace
Mattioli
It was the Christmas season
of his fortieth year when Tattoo Tommy became
bothered over the empty spot on the bottom of his
back. The rest of him, except his face, was
covered in tattoos. His chest was covered with
one of Jesus nailed to a crucifix, blood dripping
down; on his legs were chalices, bleeding hearts
and crosses; on his arms were fish and crowns of
thorns. The one covering his upper back of the
Virgin Mary looked like one of those statues
people put out in their gardens. He thought of
his body as a song of praise to the Lord and
wanted to make the song more sacred and melodious
by getting the perfect tattoo on his empty spot.
He thought of getting a tattoo of the Last Supper
but the shape was all wrong for that spot. He
thought of the Madonna and Child but that
particular image didn't speak to him. He wanted
something he could see himself in.
Perhaps something
commemorating when he went inside a church for
the first time in his life and joined the other
parishioners in song. Singing felt more than
cathartic. It felt like it was burning out all
the sin that had been rotting away inside of him
for years, and the louder he sang, the faster it
burnt.
Perhaps it would be
something from his present life. As he sat in his
kitchen looking fondly at his wife and daughter
making Christmas cookies together while consoling
his son who had just cut himself on a ceramic elf,
he thought of how wonderfully blessed he had been
in his life. Tommy cherished his family and
thanked God every day and every night for them.
He, himself, was an extremely devoted, loving and
giving husband and father. Not only was he a
great provider and caretaker, but he insisted on
helping his wife out around the house, especially
when it came to putting the Christmas decorations
up. From his chair, he gazed around proudly at
the plastic smiling Santas, the lights that lined
the windows and the Nativity Scene that sat in
the middle of their kitchen table.
Tommy stared at the scene
as though he were seeing it for the first time.
And in some ways, he was. He never noticed the
familial love between the mother, son and father
the way he had at that moment. He looked at
Joseph and then he looked at himself in the
reflection of his milk glass. And then it became
as clear to him. He found what image he would put
on his empty spot: the Nativity Scene. He
zealously began sketching. He was a good artist
and got even better since Jesus had come to him.
He stared at his reflection again in the glass,
and for a quick second, he thought he was seeing
Joseph himself.
|
