The small scar under her chin, barely visible, yet still there. It takes her back to that day of the ceremonial celebration for finalizing preschool. She was very excited about reciting the poem she had learnt by heart, in front of her teacher, her classmates and their families. She loved performing in such events, reciting poems, performing in a small play, or singing. She ran into the bathroom to get ready. The bathroom floor was wet. In her excitement, she slipped and fell with her chin against the toilet bowl. The toilet seat was up, so she hit her chin directly against the cold porcelain. As her mother washed the girl’s face, the girl noticed blood dripping on her mom’s hands and in the sink. She was afraid they might not make it to the ceremony, and so told her parents they must hurry. Her father quickly drove to the hospital. The doctor closed the wound with stitches and placed a big bandage on her chin, way bigger than the wound itself. The girl, however, was not bothered by this. All she wanted was to make it to the preschool closing ceremony and recite her poem. Which eventually she did, even if they arrived late. As she was reciting the poem, the overwhelming relief she felt was euphoric. She had even forgotten about the pain or the shame from arriving late with a big bandage on her face. As she faced the crowd, the girl noticed tears in the teacher’s and some of the mothers’ eyes. She wondered if her poem had made them sad.