A few weeks ago when I went to Chicago and I did something I thought I would never do.
I got my first tattoo.
I’ve always thought tattoos were neat, but I could never pin point something that I wanted on my body the rest of my life. I’d think, “Would I still like this when I was old, wrinkly and gray?” Probably not. But for many months, I talked to my best friend, Julia, about how it was something I wanted to do and we planned to go together when I got to Chicago.
Now I knew there were a few things I wanted out of this tattoo. I wanted Jonah’s name (not just a J because my last name is Johnson) and I want it to be on my wrist facing me. I wanted to be able to look down every single day for the rest of my life and be reminded of the sad times and also the happy times with Jonah. I want to be able to look down and smile too.
My dad couldn’t believe I went through with it considering the location and the pain, but it didn’t hurt. I have gone through more pain this year then most do in a lifetime.
All in all, I want to carry Jonah with me.
I carry him in my heart.